
FT MEADE 

GenCol 1 

















Class r ^ 

Book 

Gopight N°_ - 

COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 














Our Little Brazilian Cousin 


/ 


THE 

Little Cousin Series 


(trade mark) 

Each volume illustrated with six or more full-page plates in 
tint. Cloth, i2mo, with decorative cover, 
per volume, 60 cents 


LIST OF TITLES 


By Mary Hazelton Wade 


(unless otherwise indicated) 


Our Little African Cousin 


Our Little Indian Cousin 


Our Little Alaskan Cousin 

By Mary F. Nixon-Roulet 

Our Little Arabian Cousin 

By Blanche McManus 

Our Little Armenian Cousin 
Our Little Brazilian Cousin 
By Mary F. Nixon-Roulet 
Our Little Brown Cousin 
Our Little Canadian Cousin 
By Elizabeth R. Macdonald 

Our Little Chinese Cousin 

By Isaac Taylor Headland 

Our Little Cuban Cousin 
Our Little Dutch Cousin 

By Blanche McManus 

Our Little English Cousin 
By Blanche McManus 
Our Little Eskimo Cousin 
Our Little French Cousin 

By Blanche McManus 

Our Little German Cousin 
Our Little Hawaiian Cousin 
Our Little Hindu Cousin 

By Blanche McManus 


Our Little Irish Cousin 
Our Little Italian Cousin 
Our Little Japanese Cousin 
Our Little Jewish Cousin 
Our Little Korean Cousin 

By H. Lee M. Pike 

Our Little Mexican Cousin 

By Edward C. Butler 

Our Little Norwegian Cousin 
Our Little Panama Cousin 

By H. Lee M. Pike 

Our Little Philippine Cousin 
Our little Porto Rican Cousin 
Our Little Russian Cousin 
Our Little Scotch Cousin 

By Blanche McManus 
Our Little Siamese Cousin 
Our Little Spanish Cousin 
By Mary F. Nixon-Roulet 
Our Little Swedish Cousin 

By Claire M. Coburn 
Our Little Swiss Cousin 
Our Little Turkish Cousin 


(In Preparation ) 

Our Little Australian Cousin 


L. C. PAGE 

New England Building, 


COMPANY 

Boston, Mass. 

















































■ 



































“ HE THREW HIMSELF DOWN UPON THE GRASS.” 

{See page 4) 




I Our Little Brazilian I 


4 

* 

4 

4 

4. 

4 

4 

4 

4 

4 

4. 

4 

* 

4 

4- 

4 

* 

4 

4 

* 

* 

* 

* 

4- 


Cousin 


By 

Mary F. Nixon-Roulet 

Author of “ Our Little Alaskan Cousin “ Owr Little 
Spanish Cousin <?/c. 

Illustrated by 

Louis de Meserac 


4 

4 

4 

■4 

* 

* 

4 

4 

.4 

4 

4 

* 

’4 



4 

4 

4 

4 

4 

4 

* 

'4 


4 
4 
4 
4 
4 


Boston 

L. C. Page & Company 

MDCCCCVI i 


4 

4 

4 

4 

4 



< 


BY of CONGRESS | 

two Cooles Received 

SEP 30 I90f 

, Ccoyrleht Entry 

'til 

COPY D. 


t 

Copyright , igoy 
By L. C. Page & Company 

(incorporated) 

y^// rights reserved 

© 

ft « 

c © € 

C If 

c c < 


First Impression, September, 1907 


COLONIAL PRESS 

Electrotyped and Printed by C. H. Simonds Co, 
Boston , U. S. A. 


Preface 

Our Little Brazilian Cousin lives in a land 
not so well known as the countries of Europe 
and Asia, but one of great natural beauty and 
charm. 

Through it flows the greatest river of the 
world, the Amazon, whose banks are covered 
with rich tropical vegetation, most beautiful to 
behold. Its forests are full of birds of brilliant 
plumage and strange animals, while the Indians, 
who were once the only people here, are not yet 
all civilized. 

The Little Brazilian Cousins are nearly all 
descended from the Portuguese who came to 
this land, and made it their own, before it finally 
became a republic like the United States. They 
built many great cities, and have cultivated the 


VI 


Preface 


country so that now it is becoming rich and 
powerful. 

With such a beautiful home, and with such 
advantages, our Little Brazilian Cousin will 
soon become one of the most important of all 
the little cousins, as he is now one of the most 
picturesque and interesting. 


Contents 


CHAPTER PAGE 

I. A Quiet Siesta 1 

II. In the Forest u 

III. A Tropical Storm 20 

IV. Along the Amazon . * . . . 33 

V. A Visit to Grandmamma’s ... 44 

VI. En Route to Rio 52 

VII. In the Capital 66 

VIII. A Gala Day in Rio .... 78 

IX. The Coffee Plantation .... 91 

X. A Treat in Prospect . . . .101 

XI. The Falls of Iguazu . . . .111 

XII. Guacha 122 



List of Illustrations 


♦ 


PAGE 

“He threw himself down upon the grass” 

(See page p) .... . Frontispiece 

“ He placed himself on a raft and was rowed 

TO THE MIDDLE OF THE GREAT RIVER ” .27 

“This he kept up until the paddle had a 

THICK COATING OF RUBBER” .... 38 

“The Fazenda of the Senhor Dias stood upon 

A HILL OVERLOOKING THE AMAZON ” . *44 / 

“ The CHILDREN SAW FOR THE FIRST TIME THE 

harbour of Rio de Janeiro ” . . .66 

“ ‘ I MUST NOT BE SILLY AND CRY,’ SHE SAID TO 
HERSELF ” 


I 16 
























» 
























V* 






















\ I 




























% 















Our Little Brazilian Cousin 


CHAPTER I 

A QUIET SIESTA 

Affonzo was tired of talking to the white 
cockatoo. It was the time of day when his lit- 
tle sister Lola took her siesta, and he had no 
one to play with. He was himself such a big 
boy, soon eleven years old, that he felt no 
longer the need of the daily siesta, although 
in the warm country of Brazil where he lived, 
even grown people like a nap in the middle of 
the day. 

Affonzo himself did not feel very lively. The 
sun beat down like a great ball of fire and only 
the cool veranda or the shady garden seemed 


4 Our Little Brazilian Cousin 


about it that he was very curious and could 
hardly wait until the day came when it should be 
served, for his mother had promised that each 
should have a taste. 

Above the melon vines grew one of the tallest 
of the banana trees, and the fruit seemed to 
Affonzo to be finer at that particular time than 
he had ever seen it. He was very hungry and 
felt he must have one of those bananas at once. 
Ordinarily he would have climbed the tree like 
a little monkey and helped himself, but his 
mother had excused him from his siesta on condi- 
tion that he be quiet, and though he looked long- 
ingly at the fruit he did not start to climb. He 
threw himself down upon the grass and looked 
up through the thick foliage at the blue above. 

“ I wish something would happen,” he said 
to himself. “ It seems to me that nothing ever 
happens. One half the year I must be in Para 
and stay at my grandfather’s to go to the Laure 
Sodre Institute — I am tired of the very 


A Quiet Siesta 


5 


name ! — and the other half I must stay here 
at the Fazenda with no playmate but Lola, and 
she is made to sleep half the day. I wish some- 
thing would happen,” and he sighed discon- 
tentedly. “ How hungry I am,” he thought. 
“ I must have one of those bananas, they never 
looked so good ! I believe mamma will not care 
if I climb for one, for she only said I must keep 
quiet and I’m sure I’ll make no noise.” With 
that the boy rose to his feet, and with a quick 
glance around, he began to climb and was soon 
squirming around the trunk of the tree like a 
snake. Once there he reached for the best 
bananas and filled the pockets of his linen suit 
with them. He was just starting down when he 
heard voices coming and peering cautiously down 
the garden path he saw his father with an uncle 
of whom he was very fond, and whom he had 
not seen for some time. 

“ Uncle Prudente,” he thought. “ I wonder 
when he came from Para and how long he is 


6 Our Little Brazilian Cousin 


going to stay. Oh, dear! how will I get down 
from here ? ” Affonzo knew that his father 
would not be likely to pass over any disobedience 
and that he would be punished if he came down 
at that moment. So he crouched among the 
leaves and was still as a mouse while the two 
gentlemen came directly under the banana tree 
and stopped to talk. 

“ This is the American melon,” said the 
Senhor. “ It will be ripe in another week. 
There are others ripening but this is the finest. 
If it is good I shall keep all the seeds and have 
a large crop next year. If Juan comes, I shall 
ask him to bring me the seeds of various kinds, 
for there is nothing like variety in a garden. In 
our hot climate these should do well and they 
are very agreeable when properly cooled. I hope 
Juan will come ; a long visit from him would be 
a good thing for Affonzo, who is growing 
spoiled from being the only boy. He is wilful 


A Quiet Siesta 7 

and high-spirited but on the whole he is — what 
is that? ” 

The Senhor stopped suddenly and Affonzo 
never knew what he himself was, besides being 
wilful and high spirited. Distressed at being a 
listener, he had leaned too far out on the branch 
on which he sat and it broke under his weight. 
He gave a wild clutch and fell down, down, 
down. He thought he would never stop, and oh, 
horror! when he did light, it was astride the 
shoulders of his uncle. Affonzo was a sturdy 
little fellow and his uncle was slight and small, 
the result being that both went down in a heap 
on top of the melon. 

For a moment no one spoke; then his father 
pulled him off his uncle and helped his irate 
brother to his feet. Uncle Prudente’s white 
linen suit was splashed from head to foot with 
watermelon juice, his panama hat was crushed 
out of shape, watermelon juice ran down his 
face and several black seeds stuck to his face. 


6 Our Little Brazilian Cousin 


going to stay. Oh, dear ! how will I get down 
from here?” Affonzo knew that his father 
would not be likely to pass over any disobedience 
and that he would be punished if he came down 
at that moment. So he crouched among the 
leaves and was still as a mouse while the two 
gentlemen came directly under the banana tree 
and stopped to talk. 

“ This is the American melon,” said the 
Senhor. “ It will be ripe in another week. 
There are others ripening but this is the finest. 
If it is good I shall keep all the seeds and have 
a large crop next year. If Juan comes, I shall 
ask him to bring me the seeds of various kinds, 
for there is nothing like variety in a garden. In 
our hot climate these should do well and they 
are very agreeable when properly cooled. I hope 
Juan will come ; a long visit from him would be 
a good thing for Affonzo, who is growing 
spoiled from being the only boy. He is wilful 


A Quiet Siesta 7 

and high-spirited but on the whole he is — what 
is that? ” 

The Senhor stopped suddenly and Affonzo 
never knew what he himself was, besides being 
wilful and high spirited. Distressed at being a 
listener, he had leaned too far out on the branch 
on which he sat and it broke under his weight. 
He gave a wild clutch and fell down, down, 
down. He thought he would never stop, and oh, 
horror! when he did light, it was astride the 
shoulders of his uncle. Affonzo was a sturdy 
little fellow and his uncle was slight and small, 
the result being that both went down in a heap 
on top of the melon. 

For a moment no one spoke; then his father 
pulled him off his uncle and helped his irate 
brother to his feet. Uncle Prudente’s white 
linen suit was splashed from head to foot with 
watermelon juice, his panama hat was crushed 
out of shape, watermelon juice ran down his 
face and several black seeds stuck to his face. 


8 Our Little Brazilian Cousin 


He was speechless with rage, but he looked so 
very funny that Affonzo, sore and bruised by 
his fall and terribly frightened, could not help 
laughing. He sat down upon the ground and 
laughed till he cried, and the noise woke all the 
parrots dozing in the trees, and all began jabber- 
ing at once, while the cockatoo gave one of his 
terrible screeches. 

When the noise had subsided a little, Senhor 
Dias said sternly to Affonzo, “ What is the 
meaning of this? ” Affonzo was silent, but he 
quickly sprang to his feet and stood respectfully 
in front of his father, for Brazilian boys are 
taught to treat their elders with great deference. 

“What were you doing in that tree?” de- 
manded his father. 

“ Eating bananas,” said Affonzo simply. 

“ Does your mother permit that? ” asked the 
Senhor, for in Brazil, as in most South American 
countries, the mother arranges all matters in 
regard to the children. 


A Quiet Siesta 9 

“ My mother allows me to climb trees and 
eat bananas,” said Affonzo. “ That was not a 
disobedience, but — ” 

“ But what? ” demanded his father. 

“ But,” continued Affonzo slowly. u She had 
at the hour of the siesta requested me to keep 
quiet.” 

“ Do you call this quiet?” asked his father 
sternly though his eyes twinkled. “ Such a 
noise has not been heard at the Fazenda for 
many days.” 

“ Not very quiet,” said Affonzo, his head 
drooping, though he could scarce keep from 
laughing again. “ I ask your pardon, my uncle,” 
he added. “ I intended nothing of disrespect. 
I did but lose my hold upon the tree and the 
next thing I knew. I sat astride of your august 
shoulders. I pray you pardon me.” Affonzo’ s 
tone was contrite, and his dancing eyes were on 
the ground. 

“ Say no more of it,” said his uncle, as he 


io Our Little Brazilian Cousin 

laid his hand on the boy’s head. “ Boys will be 
boys and Affonzo is not unlike others. But next 
time I come do not receive me with such a fierce 
embrace. Indeed I thought my neck was broken 
with the warmth of your welcome.” 

Affonzo’s laugh rang out gaily, but he sobered 
down when his father said, “ I excuse you since 
your uncle asks it, but remember after this that 
the commands of your mother are to be obeyed. 
Go now with your uncle and attend to his wants 
while he repairs the damage your carelessness 
has wrought.” 

Affonzo bowed to his father and made the 
military salute as all school boys are taught to 
do in Brazil, but he sighed to himself as he went, 
“ I wonder what he meant about Juan but I am 
afraid to ask. And the worst of it all is, that 
now I shall never know how the American melon 
tasted.” 


CHAPTER II 


IN THE FOREST 

The sun was just rising and its slanting rays 
cast a golden glow over the thick foliage when 
Affonzo sprang out of bed next morning, 
awakened by the noisy chattering of the birds. 

“ Hurrah ! ” he exclaimed. “ It is a fine day ! 
How glad I am, for now I can go hunting with 
my father and Uncle Prudente.” 

He hurried into his clothes and down to the 
breakfast-room, where Joachim was serving 
strong black coffee, rolls and fruit to his father 
and uncle. 

“ Here you are, bright and early,” said the 
Senhor. “ Do you want to go with us? Perhaps 
you would better not ! ” 

Affonzo’s face fell. 


12 Our Little Brazilian Cousin 

“Oh, father! last night you promised!” he 
said, and his father answered, “ Oh, you may 
go. I merely thought perhaps it might tire you 
too much, for we shall have a long tramp.” 

“ We must start at once,” said his uncle, “ if 
we are to have any sport before midday,” and 
they started toward the forest. 

The Fazenda of the Senhor Dias was situated 
on the edge of the magnificent woods which 
line the banks of the Amazon near the City of 
Para. 

“ No wonder that this region around Para 
is called the Paradise of Brazil,” said the 
Senhor as they entered the forest, where heavy 
dew glittered on the leaves like diamonds in an 
emerald crown. “ Every time I enter the forest 
it seems to me more splendid than it did the last 
time.” 

“ What are those huge trees? ” asked Affonzo. 

“ You ought to know those, for they are 
among the most famous of all Brazilian trees. 


In the Forest 


13 


They are the Stanba or stone wood, and beside 
them grows a cinnamon tree. In addition to 
these there is the jacaranda, pas d’ arc, the 
euphorbia, the large lofty cotton-wood tree, the 
tall white syringa.” 

“ I know that one,” said Affonzo. “ It is a 
rubber tree. Won’t you take me to see the rub- 
ber gathered to-day? ” 

“ Not to-day, but to-morrow, perhaps, for 
your uncle wishes to make the rounds and you 
may go with him.” 

“ Thank you, that will be delightful,” said 
Affonzo. 

Their path led through the forest where long 
racemes of tropic moss hung down and waved 
in the breeze, while fern and vines grew in a 
tangle across the narrow path. Often the under- 
growth was so thick, that Joachim had to go 
before the party and cut it away with his 
tracado . 1 

1 A sharp blade like the Cuban machete. 


14 Our Little Brazilian Cousin 

“ You must keep silent now,” said the Senhor. 

“ We shall frighten the game away if we talk. 
Ah!” As he spoke he raised his gun to his 
shoulder and fired. There was a shrill cry, a 
flash of red and green wings, and a large bird 
with an enormous bill fluttered to the ground 
before them. 

“ A toucan ! ” cried Affonzo, as Joachim 
quickly bagged the bird. “ Isn’t it queer that 
the bird’s cry sounded just like its name, 
T oucano ! T oucano ! ” 

“ That is just the reason that the Indians 
named them toucano ” said the Senhor. “ But 
listen, I hear monkeys.” 

Looking carefully about, the hunters saw two 
monkeys at the top of a high tree, about which 
clung a monkey’s ladder, an enormous vine 
which wound around the tree from its roots to 
its very topmost branches. When the little 
animals saw that they were perceived, they tried 
to conceal themselves behind the huge leaves of 


In the Forest 


15 


the tree, and the Senhor’s shot showed no result 
beyond an increased chattering. 

“ It seems a shame to kill such cunning little 
creatures/’ said Affonzo, but his father said, 

“ We hunt for food, not for mere sport, my 
son. Monkeys make an excellent dinner, and 
you will be glad enough to eat after we have 
tramped all morning through the heat.” 

“ Master will not hit the monkeys,” said 
Joachim. “ I will get them,” and he quickly 
stripped off all his clothing, except his cotton 
trousers, and began to climb the monkey ladder. 

It was not easy to climb with his gun in one 
hand but he was careful and as nimble as a cat, 
and he soon neared the top of the tree. He 
perched in a crotch of the tree, which branched 
out thickly at the top, and hiding behind some 
leaves he waited until he could get a glimpse of 
the monkeys. At last he spied one of them at 
the end of a branch and firing quickly, the 
monkey fell to the ground, fifty feet below. 


16 Our Little Brazilian Cousin 

Joachim climbed down after it and the party 
soon went its way through the forest. Now the 
Senhor shot, and then his brother, and the boy 
himself was allowed to fire at an ocelot which 
crept through the bushes, and great was his de- 
light when he shot it. 

As the noon hour approached, the sun rose 
high in the heavens, and the heat grew so in- 
tense that the Senhor said, 

“ We will go no farther. Let us rest and eat 
until it grows cooler. Joachim, lead us to a 
shady spot where we may camp.” 

“ Yes, Senhor,” said the black, and soon he 
brought them to a ruined building of stone, 
covered with vines and hidden among the trees. 
Here upon the stone floor of the ruin, he kindled 
a fire and cooked the monkey, the flesh of which 
was simply delicious, and Affonzo ate until he 
was so sleepy that he could not keep his eyes 
open. 

“What was this building?” he asked his 


In the Forest 


17 

father. “ I did not know anyone had ever lived 
here.” 

“ No one knows what it was,” replied his 
father. “ It has been here for years and the 
Indians say it was built many, many years ago 
by a Black Gown, as they called the early mis- 
sionaries. It may have been the beginning of a 
mission house, but in any case it makes a very 
nice cool place in which to take our siesta now. 
So sleep, my son, and wake refreshed.” 

Affonzo closed his eyes and was soon in dream- 
land. He slept long but had strange dreams of 
some one’s putting a heavy stone upon his chest 
and pressing it down. At last he awoke with the 
pressure still on him. He lay quite still, drowsily 
wondering what was the matter with him and 
before he stirred, Joachim’s voice said in a 
hoarse whisper, 

“ Don’t move, little master, don’t even open 
your eyes ! ” 

Affonzo had been trained to habits of strictest 


1 8 Our Little Brazilian Cousin 


obedience, and he lay perfectly still without 
moving a muscle, although wondering very much 
what was the matter. He heard Joachim dart 
quickly to his side. There was the sound of a 
blow, and a loud exclamation from his father, 
and Joachim said, 

“ Jump up, there is no danger now ! ” 

As Affonzo sprang to his feet, the weight 
rolled off his chest, and he saw the body of a 
large snake pinned to the earth by the blade of 
Joachim’s trocado. It was a jararaca, a Brazilian 
snake about six feet long, of a yellowish colour. 
Sleeping in the cool of the old stone ruin it had 
been disturbed by the intruders, and had crawled 
across Affonzo’s body to reach the door. 

“ My boy, you have Joachim to thank for 
saving your life,” said his father warmly, as he 
put his arm around his boy and drew him to his 
side. “ The jararaca is very poisonous, and had 
your awakening disturbed him, he might have 
driven his fangs into you.” 


In the Forest 


19 


“ Good old Joachim,” said Affonzo, as he 
threw his arms around the black’s neck. Negro 
servants in Brazil who have been in a family for 
years are always much beloved, and Affonzo was 
devoted to the old negro. Joachim didn’t say 
much, but smiled at the boy as he took the dead 
body of the snake outside, and prepared to take 
off its beautiful skin. 


CHAPTER III 

A TROPICAL STORM 

“ What fortunes could be made in these 
forests/’ said the Senhor Dias to his brother, 
“ if people with capital only knew of the riches 
stored here. Mahogany, satinwood, rosewood 
and many other kinds of trees grow here in the 
greatest abundance, and were there railroads 
and ships to transport them, Brazil would be 
one of the richest countries in the world.” 

“ We should try to develop our own land,” 
said his brother, and the two men entered into a 
long conversation as to the wonderful forests of 
the country, to which Affonzo listened with 
interest. 

“ Oh, father! ” he exclaimed, at last. “ When 


20 


A Tropical Storm 21 

you go up the river to see the forests may I go 
with you? ” 

“ Perhaps, but I could not make a promise 
without first asking your mother’s consent. The 
trip will be an interesting one, but very hard, 
though it might do you good.” 

“ I should love to go,” said Affonzo, and his 
uncle added, “ He will grow up a milksop if you 
keep him in the nursery much longer; let him 

go” 

“ It is about time we were starting now,” said 
the Senhor. “ Joachim, make ready the bag. 
Your uncle and I will walk on a little ahead, 
Affonzo, and you can follow with Joachim. But 
do not stray away from him, or you will miss the 
path, and all manner of dangers lurk in these 
forests.” 

Affonzo sat lazily waiting and watching as the 
black put up the dinner things. “ Take care of 
my snake skin,” he said, and Joachim smiled, 


22 Our Little Brazilian Cousin 

and replied, “ That will make a fine belt for the 
little master when it is dried.” 

“ I should like that very much,” said Affonzo. 
“ You must make it for me.” 

“ Yes, sir,” said Joachim as he swung over his 
strong shoulders the wicker-work hamper and 
game bag. “ Is the young master ready to 
go?” 

“ I am,” Affonzo replied, and the two started 
down the narrow path along which the Senhor 
had disappeared. 

“What kind of a tree is that?” asked Af- 
fonzo pointing to a tall tree a hundred feet high. 

“ That is the castanhao ,” said Joachim. 
“ Some people call it the Brazil nut, and I have 
often gathered nuts from it for you to eat. The 
nuts grow at the very top of the tree in shells like 
cocoanuts, and each shell has fifteen or twenty 
nuts in it. Often I have thought my head was 
broken when a shell fell upon it.” 

“ I wonder why we don’t catch up with my 


A Tropical Storm 23 

father? ” said Affonzo. “ Joachim, what makes 
it so dark? ” 

u Storm coming. We must hurry,” was the 
brief answer. 

Heavy clouds had gathered quickly; not a 
glimmer of sunlight came through the trees, and 
great drops of rain began to fall. 

“ Father! ” cried Affonzo, but there was no 
answer. “Father!” he called again and 
Joachim shouted, “Senhor! Senhor!” 

Nothing was heard but the screaming of the 
wind, and the rain fell faster and faster. Vivid 
flashes of lightning illuminated the forest, and 
the thunder muttered and grumbled in the dis- 
tance. 

“ Come with me quickly,” said Joachim, as he 
seized the boy by the hand. “ We mustn’t stay 
here.” 

“ But my father,” cried Affonzo and tried to 
get away from Joachim, but the negro held tight 
to him. 


24 Our Little Brazilian Cousin 


“ The Senhor can take care of himself; I must 
take care of you,” he said, as he pulled the boy 
into a side path which led through the woods. 
They made their way with difficulty through 
the dense tangle of underbrush and vines. Often 
a swinging branch would strike Affonzo on the 
face, or he would tangle his feet in a swaying 
vine and fall full length in a bed of fern. The 
rain poured down in torrents, but the leaves and 
interlaced branches served as a shield from the 
great drops which pelted down like bullets. 
Soon they came to a small hut with a thatched 
roof and no door to bar the entrance. Into it 
Joachim pulled the boy with scant ceremony. 
As they entered the hut a man rose hurriedly 
from his grass couch, and Affonzo recognized 
an Indian who had often been to the Fazenda to 
see his father. 

“ Ah, Vicente,” said Joachim. “ Give us 


shelter.” 


A Tropical Storm 


25 


“ Welcome,” said the syringuero . 1 “ The 
storm is bad. You reached shelter just in time. 
See!” 

He pointed through the door-way and 
Affonzo saw that the streams of water were 
well-nigh rivers, and the thunder and lightning 
were almost incessant. 

“Where do you suppose my father is?” he 
asked, and Joachim answered, 

“ The Senhor has found shelter, do not fear; 
and he will know you are safe with me.” 

“ There is nothing to do but sit still, I sup- 
pose,” said Affonzo, rather mournfully, for that 
was the hardest thing in all the world for him to 
do. 

Vicente gave him a slow smile. He was an 
old Indian of wiry frame, with keen black eyes. 
His hair was straight and black, his chin firm and 
strong, his features clean-cut, his face proud and 
intelligent. He was in great contrast to curly- 
1 Rubber gatherer. 


26 Our Little Brazilian Cousin 

haired, black Joachim with his good-humoured, 
stolid face. 

Vicente was one of the Indians whose fathers 
had owned the land before the Portuguese dis- 
covered it and named it Brazil from the red 
colour of its dye woods. He gathered rubber 
from the great trees which grew in the forest, 
and lived alone in his little hut. He sat smoking 
and watching the boy who looked out into the 
rain feeling very miserable. 

“ Vicente,” he said at last, “ have you lived 
long in the forest? ” 

“ Many years have I been here,” said the old 
man. “ And my fathers were here before me. 
They hunted and fished and were chiefs in the 
land until the white men came. Many died, 
many went to the great hills, but I stayed here, 
for the home of my fathers is my home.” 

“ Tell me a story, Vicente,” begged the little 
boy. 

“ In the days of my fathers,” said Vicente, 



“ HE PLACED HIMSELF ON A RAFT AND WAS ROWED TO 
THE MIDDLE OF THE GREAT RIVER.” 

































I 




































































































































































- 














A Tropical Storm 


27 


“ and of my father’s fathers and their fathers, 
things were not as to-day they are in the coun- 
try of the great river. There were no white 
Senhores. The Indians dwelt alone. They 
roamed the forests hunting with the bow and 
arrow; they fished in the great stream; they 
dwelt in their lodges and were happy. 

u Often there were fights with other Indians 
and these were of great glory. But my people 
were peaceful and loved not war, never fighting 
if they could first have peace. To secure peace 
for our village, each year they made a sacrifice 
and this was the manner of it. 

“ A chief smeared his body with gum and then 
powdered himself with gold dust. He powdered 
it all over, for in our mountains was much gold 
and precious gems. He placed himself on a raft 
and was rowed to the middle of the great river. 
There he raised his hands to heaven, praying the 
Great Spirit to save his village, and jumping 


28 Our Little Brazilian Cousin 


into the water he washed off the precious dust. 
This he sacrificed for his village. 

“ This was done each year and should have 
been done still, when, perhaps, the Indian vil- 
lages would not have been destroyed and de- 
serted, but it ceased for the sin of one man. A 
chief loved gold. That is an evil and a foolish- 
ness, for gold is but for use and not for love. 
He loved its glitter, and it seemed to him stupid 
to waste it in a sacrifice. 

“ It was his turn to make the river sacrifice and 
become the Gilded Man. 1 But he was angry 
within himself, and said, ‘ why shall I do this 
thing? If the village wishes gold, why must 
it take mine ? It is a foolish thing ! ’ 

“Yet he could not refuse the sacrifice, for to 
be the Gilded Man was thought an honour, and 
did he refuse, many would suspect him of faith- 

1 This is the Indian legend of El Dorado , which is really 
El Hombre Dorado , or the gilded man, and it was this 
story which led so many of the early explorers to search 
for “ El Dorado” 


A Tropical Storm 


29 


lessness to his tribe. So he gilded himself as 
was the custom, and his brother chiefs rowed 
him to the river and he raised his hands to 
heaven. 

“ ‘ Spirits of Rain and Wind, of Fire and 
Water, of Good and Evil, keep our village and 
our people,’ he cried. ‘ We offer all to thee ! ’ 
Then he plunged into the stream and washed the 
gold from his arms and legs. All the time his 
heart was hot within him and he thought to him- 
self, ‘ How my soul grieves to see this waste of 
the beautiful, shining dust! ’ Then an evil spirit 
tempted him and he did not wash off all the gold. 
He left beneath his arms where others could not 
see it, some of the glittering dust, and returned 
to his village, an insult to the Spirits of Heaven. 

“ That night came fierce rain and wind and 
with it a horde of enemies who descended like 
a hurricane and destroyed the village, — men, 
women and children. So the chief with all his 
gold was destroyed utterly and he was the last 


30 Our Little Brazilian Cousin 

Gilded Man. Thus were the Spirits of Heaven 
avenged ! ” 

“ Thank you, Vicente,” cried Affonzo. “ That 
is a good story. But see, the rain is over. Now 
we must hurry to find my father,” pointing as 
he spoke to the doorway. The sky was clear and 
bright, already rose-tinted with the rays of the 
setting sun, low in the heavens. 

“ You must not go yet,” said Vicente. 
“ Ground too wet, trees wet, bad for white peo- 
ple. You must wait.” 

“But' I must find my father,” persisted 
Affonzo, who, though he was a brave boy, be- 
gan to be somewhat frightened. But Vicente 
knew the danger of the steaming forest with its 
snakes, mosquitoes and insects swarming after 
the storm. “ Not safe to go now,” he said, and 
Joachim, who was quite comfortable where he 
was, said, “ Little master must sleep here and 
go home in the morning.” 

“ You shall have a good supper,” said Vicente, 


A Tropical Storm 31 

who began at once to prepare the meal, and 
Affonzo was forced to submit. So he watched 
with interest the preparations for supper, for 
like most boys, he was generally hungry. Vicente 
built a fire in the stone fireplace in front of his 
hut, and from a stone jar in the corner he 
brought pork, some coarse bread, wild honey 
found in the woods, and bananas. 

“ Take a bird from our bag,” said Affonzo, 
wishing to give his share of the feast, and 
Joachim brought out a parrot which was soon 
stewing in the pot with the pork, and a handful 
of peppers and herbs. When the savoury stew 
was done, the meal was spread upon a rough 
bench at the door, and the three odd companions 
sat down together. 

“ Quite a festive party,” said a laughing voice, 
and jumping up, Affonzo saw his father and 
uncle approaching through the trees. 

“ Oh, papa, how glad I am to see you ! I 
feared you would be wet through, but you must 


32 Our Little Brazilian Cousin 

have found shelter as we did, for you are 
scarcely wet at all.” 

“ I worried about you, more than you did 
about me, I fancy,” said his father, “ though I 
hoped Joachim would bring you here. Your 
uncle and I missed the path some way, and could 
not find you or the old house again, so we took 
refuge in a deserted hut.” 

“ The Senhors will sup with me,” said Vicente, 
u and remain here for the night since the forest 
is unsafe for the boy.” 

“ A thousand thanks; we will stay if you can 
arrange for so many,” was the reply, and as 
Vicente assured them that they would all be most 
welcome, they ate their supper with much en- 
joyment. 

The two Senhors slept in Indian hammocks 
swung between giant rubber trees, while Affonzo 
curled up in a blanket and slept, as did Vicente 
and Joachim, on a fragrant couch of dried grass. 


CHAPTER IV 


ALONG THE AMAZON 

“ Come, son,” said the Senhor early next 
morning. “ We have a long day before us and 
you must eat plenty of breakfast. That is if you 
want to go with your uncle and me. If not, you 
may go back home with Joachim.” 

“Where are you going?” asked Affonzo as 
he smoothed down his linen suit, and combed 
his hair with a pocket comb from his dapper lit- 
tle uncle’s case. He had washed his face in the 
stream which gurgled near the hut, and that was 
all the toilet he could make, which seemed odd to 
him, for he was something of a dandy. 

“ We are going the rounds with Vicente to 
see the rubber plantation, and then go home by 
the river.” 


33 


34 Our Little Brazilian Cousin 

“ Do let me go with you, I am sure my mother 
would not object,” cried Affonzo. 

“ I shall send Joachim home with word of 
your safety to ease her mind, and as you wish it 
so much, you may come with us; so eat and we 
will start.” 

Senhor Dias was a rubber exporter. From 
his plantation near Para went out huge 
balls of the rubber, solid, tough and brown. It 
is very interesting to watch the process of obtain- 
ing this from the milk-white sap of the rubber 
trees. 

“ Well, Vicente, shall we start now,” said the 
Senhor when they had breakfasted. 

“ When the Senhor is ready,” said Vicente. 

The Indian lived by himself all the year 
around in his little hut. All along the Amazon 
these cabins may be found, hidden in the woods, 
and in each one dwells only a single Indian. It 
is a lonely and dangerous life, the climate is un- 
healthful, the swampy lands of the river valley 


Along the Amazon 35 

where the rubber trees grow are low and 
malarious, and the syringuero has often to wade 
knee deep in mud, and work all day in wet cloth- 
ing. 

The Indians are trustworthy workers and 
many of them earn a good living. Old Vicente 
had worked there so long that he would not 
have known how to act anywhere else, but he 
was glad to have company on his lonely rounds. 
So he smiled at Affonzo as the boy skipped 
along, gathering one gorgeous flower after 
another, as merry as the sunshine after the rain. 

“ You’d better walk a little more slowly, and 
save your strength for the day’s tramp,” said 
his father. “ You’ll be tired by night.” 

Vicente guided them down a well-worn path 
through the marsh land. On each side were 
splendid trees, the rubber tree growing as high 
as seventy feet. The trunk, smooth and round, 
was covered with light-coloured bark, the 
leaves, oval and about a foot long, hanging in 


36 Our Little Brazilian Cousin 

clusters of three. The fruit grows in clusters 
also, and consists of a small black nut which the 
natives like very much. Affonzo picked one 
up and tasted it, but made a very wry face as 
it was quite bitter. 

Selecting a fine tree, Vicente made a deep cut 
in the bark with his hatchet. Below it, by means 
of some damp clay, he fastened an earthen cup, 
into which the cream-coloured sap flowed slowly. 

“ By to-morrow the cup will be full,” he said. 
“ And I will come again. Now we will find 
another.” 

The next tree was half a mile away and it had 
frequently been tapped before, for a row of in- 
cisions girdled it. Vicente emptied the cups at- 
tached to these into a large pail which he carried, 
and made a new gash higher up. 

“ Do let me tap just one tree,” said Affonzo, 
and Vicente allowed him to do so and helped 
him fasten on one of the cups to catch the sap. 
Affonzo was delighted, and tramped along gaily, 


Along the Amazon 


37 


although his short legs found it difficult to keep 
up with the long strides of his father and 
uncle. 

At last Vicente finished his rounds, and said, 
as he showed the Senhor his brimming pail, 
“ This is all to-day. Does the Senhor wish to 
see it cooked? ” 

“ Yes, I want Affonzo to see it all, as I know 
he will be interested,” said Senhor Dias, and 
they all followed the Indian to a little hut, such 
as the one in which they had slept the night be- 
fore. 

“ Let us eat first,” said the Senhor. “ Our 
walk has given us all appetites.” 

So Vicente built a fire and roasted a lagarto 1 
which he had killed on the way through the 
forest. The delicate white flesh tasted delicious 
to Affonzo, and so did the bananas and oranges 
and black coffee, which Vicente made thick and 
strong as it is liked in Brazil. 


1 A Brazilian lizard. 


38 Our Little Brazilian Cousin 

Vicente then made another fire of nuts and the 
wood of the motacu 1 under a jug-shaped cala- 
bash, the smoke coming out through the neck. 
This smoke hastens the drying of the liquid 
rubber, and makes a better quality than can be 
obtained in any other way. 

“ I don’t see how that stuff that looks like 
cream can ever be made like rubber,” said 
Affonzo. 

“Watch Vicente,” said his father, “ and you 
will see.” As he spoke, Vicente dipped a long 
paddle into the liquid, and then held it over the 
smoke. It quickly dried and he dipped the pad- 
dle into the juice again, repeating the process of 
drying. This he kept up until the paddle had a 
thick coating of rubber, like a large, flattened 
ball. Then he split the ball open along one side, 
and pulled the paddle out. 

“ There now ! ” said the Senhor. “ The rub- 
ber is all ready to go to market. Perhaps some 

1 A kind of palm. 



“THIS HE KEPT UP UNTIL THE PADDLE HAD A THICK 

COATING OF RUBBER.” 

























• 
















































• • 




Along the Amazon 39 

day you will bounce a ball or wear a pair of 
goloshes made of this very rubber.” 

u Won’t that be fine ! ” said Affonzo. “ What 
are you going to do now,” he asked, as his father 
rose as if to go. 

“ As soon as Vicente has finished cooking, we 
will go to the river, and go home by water,” 
said the Senhor. “ Then you will see some of 
the wood your uncle and I mean to export.” 

“ That will be much better than tramping,” 
said Affonzo, whose short legs began to be stiff 
and sore with all the walking he had done. 

Vicente soon finished cooking his rubber, and 
put up the utensils before following Affonzo and 
the two men down the path to the river. 

“Vicente is a good Indian, isn’t he?” said 
Affonzo. 

“ One of the best I have ever known,” said 
his father. “ He has worked for us for years 
and has always been honest and reliable. It is 
strange that he should be so hospitable and 


40 Our Little Brazilian Cousin 

friendly, for his ancestors and ours were always 
at war. When your grandfather was a young 
man there was always fear of the natives, and at 
one time there was an Indian uprising in which 
many Portuguese were killed. The Indians 
captured the city of Para, burned many of the 
houses, and destroyed everything they couldn’t 
carry away with them. They held the city 
over a year before the Portuguese could re- 
capture it.” 

“ It must have been exciting to live then,” 
cried Affonzo, who loved to read of wars and 
battles and thought they must be interesting 
things. 

But his uncle said, “ More peaceful times are 
less exciting, but far pleasanter and you would 
better be thankful that you live now. There 
is the river ! How beautiful it looks ! ” 

Affonzo had often seen the Amazon, the 
greatest river in the world, and had been on it 
in the steamers which ply between Para and 


Along the Amazon 


4i 


Manaos, but he had never seen it at this point, 
and he exclaimed in wonder at its beauty. The 
river was two miles wide, and in the centre was 
a broad deep channel down which the water 
flowed slowly. On each side of this were 
stretches of shallow water, while on either bank 
grew thick forests of superb trees. 

Vicente drew a canoe from a thicket about a 
sheltered cove and the little party embarked, 
Vicente paddling carefully. 

“Isn’t this splendid?” cried Affonzo. “I 
feel as if I were Orellaho discovering the river.” 

“ Why, what do you know about him? ” asked 
his uncle. 

“ Oh, he was fine,” said Affonzo. “ He was 
one of Gonzalo Pizzarro’s lieutenants and 
he crossed the Andes to find cinnamon trees. 
He had only fifty men and they built a boat and 
started down the river and had a terrible time 
for days. At last they reached the mouth of the 


42 Our Little Brazilian Cousin 

river, and were picked up by some Spanish ships. 
It told all about it in my geography.” 

“ Did it tell how he named the river? ” asked 
Ujicle Prudente. “ Orellana fell in with an 
Indian tribe where the women fought side by 
side with the men ; you know women soldiers are 
called Amazons, so he called the river ‘ Rio de 
las Amazones.’ ” 

“ See those magnificent satin-wood trees,” said 
Senhor Dias to his brother. “ Nowhere in all 
the world is there such wood from which to make 
fine furniture as here.” 

Then the two gentlemen fell into a talk about 
business plans, and Affonzo curled up in the 
canoe and watched the interesting things they 
passed. It was a scene of contrast. A native 
boat, one end thatched over for a house, a 
hammock, in which a man lolled lazily, swung 
across its deck, was passing by a large steamer 
gay with flags and striped awnings. He also 
saw boats laden with rubber, and many rafts 


Along the Amazon 


43 


made of great logs held together by long wooden 
pins driven through them, for their long voyage 
to Para. 

As they continued down the stream, the 
thatched native huts became fewer, and there 
could be seen the tiled roofs of the country homes 
of the wealthy. It was not long before Affonzo 
saw, gleaming through the trees, the white walls 
of their own Fazenda and, landing quickly, he 
bade good-by to Vicente, and rushed across the 
lawn to tell all his adventures to his mother and 
Lola. 


CHAPTER V 

A VISIT TO GRANDMAMMA^ 

The Fazenda of the Senhor Dias stood upon 
a hill overlooking the Amazon. About it were 
trees and gardens, and a small stream flowed 
through the grounds toward the great river. 
A pleasant little summer-house was set under 
a giant palm tree and about the whole place was 
an air of ease and comfort. Upon the broad, 
pillared veranda and between the shady trees 
hammocks were slung for the midday siesta, and 
the life of the villa was cheerful and pleasant. 

Affonzo was very tired the day after his jaunt 
through the forest, and toward evening he lazily 
lay in a cool hammock swinging back and forth. 
His sister sat on a cushion at his feet listening in 
delight to the story of his adventures. 


44 



“THE FAZENDA OF THE SENHOR DIAS STOOD UPON A HILI. 
OVERLOOKING THE AMAZON.” 






































♦ 




































































































A Visit to Grandmamma's 45 

Lola was only eight years old and she thought 
her big brother of eleven quite the most wonder- 
ful boy in the world. 

“ How I wish you could have been with me, 
Lola,” said Affonzo. “ Of course you could not, 
for girls can not go to the places that boys can. 
But it was most exciting ! What you would like 
would be to hear Vicente. He told me a won- 
derful story.” 

“ Do tell it to me,” said Lola, and Affonzo 
retold the story of the Gilded Man, to her great 
delight. 

“ Oh ! what a nice story,” cried Lola as he 
finished. “ What was the Indian’s house like? ” 

“ It wasn’t a real house, you know,” said 
Affonzo. “ It was a little round hut all thatched 
with straw, and he had bows and arrows and 
all kinds of things.” Affonzo was rather vague 
in his description. “ The trees around were the 
finest I ever saw. Oh ! I am sure there is no 
country in the world like ours ! ” 


46 Our Little Brazilian Cousin 

Lola smiled, and, touching the strings of her 
guitar, sang softly : 

“ Minha terra tene palmerias 
Onde canta a Sabia 
As aves que acqui gorgeiao 
Nao gorgeiao como la. 

“ Nosso ceo teni mais estrellas 
Nossos varzenes tem mais flores 
Nossos bosques tem mais vida, 

Nossos vida mais amores.” 1 

“ Brava, little one,” cried Uncle Prudente 
who had come out from his siesta refreshed and 
cool. “ That was very prettily sung, little 
patriot. Have you children heard the news?” 

1 My country has shades 
Where the Sabia sings 
The birds of your glades 
No like melody brings 

Our Heaven has more stars 
Our fields have more flowers 
Our woods have more life 
Our life has more love. 


A Visit to Grandmammas 47 

“ What news, my uncle? ” asked Affonzo. 

“ That you are to go home with me to-morrow 
to see your grandmother.” 

“ How glad I am!” cried Affonzo, and Lola 
danced up and down in delight, saying, 

“ It is long since we have been in Para, and 
the ride on the river will be so pleasant.” 

The next day was bright and fair and their 
sail down the great river as pleasant as they 
had anticipated. The air was cool and the sun 
partially under a cloud, so that the heat was 
not too great and the banks of the stream, with 
their trees and flowers, presented views as vivid 
and changing as a kaleidoscope. 

The city of Para is one of the most important 
places in Brazil. From it are sent out into the 
world all the produce of the wonderful valley of 
the Amazon, — woods, rubber and fruits. Its 
markets are busy spots of industry, and its har- 
bour teems with shipping. 

The mother of the Senhor Dias lived in a 


48 Our Little Brazilian Cousin 

handsome house on the edge of the town. Since 
the death of her husband she had lived with her 
only unmarried son, the Uncle Prudente of 
whom the children were so fond. She received 
the travellers warmly. Her son Martim’s wife 
was very dear to her, his children her idols, 
especially Affonzo. He was his grandfather's 
image; with his flashing black eyes, his proud 
mouth, his quick, impetuous manner, he was so 
like the noble old man she had so loved, that he 
seemed to embody the youth of her beloved 
dead. 

“ You must remain for a long visit with me,” 
she said to the children. “ I have asked the 
children of friends to come and play with you 
in the garden this afternoon. Some of your 
school-mates will be here, Affonzo, and some 
little folk for Lola. I hope you will have a 
pleasant time.” 

“You are most kind, grandmamma,” cried 
both children, and when their friends came, they 


A Visit to Grandmamma’s 49 

all repaired to the shady garden behind the 
house. 

There were about a dozen boys and girls all 
chattering at once, but in a moment’s quiet Lola 
said, 

“ Let us play ‘ Dona Sancha.’ I should like 
it so much and we have thirteen, just the right 
number.” 

“ Yes,” said a litttle girl named Latharina. 


“ There are seven girls and six boys. One of 
us must be it.” 

“Who shall be it?” they all cried merrily, 
and one of the larger girls stood them in a row 
and repeated, 


“lama little widow 

From the seacoast there; 

I wish to find a husband 
But I can’t tell where. 

Shall I marry this one ? Yes. 

Shall I marry that one ? No. 
Shall I marry this one ? Yes, 
For I love him so.” 


50 Our Little Brazilian Cousin 


The lot fell to a little black-eyed girl called 
Constancia, who was then blindfolded and 
around whom the others formed a circle by 
joining hands. Then all danced around Con- 
stancia singing, 

“ Madame Dona Sancha 
Covered with silver and gold, 

Take away your veil then, 

Your eyes we would behold.” 

At this Constancia uncovered her face, and 
sang, 

“ I am the daughter of a count, 

The grandchild of a king, 

Behind a stone they made me hide, 

A most peculiar thing.” 

Then the others sang, 

“ Valentin - tin - tin — 

Who is married, 

Who is married, 

She who is not must remain alone.” 

At the last words the boys and girls let go of 
each other’s hands and each one, including Con- 


A Visit to Grandmamma’s 51 


stancia, made a rush for a partner. Lola was the 
one to be left out and she had to be blindfolded, 
and take Constancia’s place in the centre of the 
ring. So the game went on, each girl taking her 
turn in the centre as often as she failed to catch 
a partner in the scramble. 

When the children were tired of play, their 
grandmother sent out Christovao, an old white- 
haired negro who had once been a slave, and he 
showed them many wonderful tricks of juggling. 
He made flowers to bloom in their hats, money 
to grow on trees, and many other queer things 
to happen, and his pet monkey kept them laugh- 
ing with his queer antics. Then they all sat 
down around the stone fountain and had a 
delicious luncheon of doces , 1 cocada , 2 and 
sweet cakes, and Affonzo and Lola went to bed 
that night quite delighted with their first day in 
Para. 


1 Preserves. 1 Cocoa jelly. 


CHAPTER VI 


EN ROUTE TO RIO 

Para is one of the most beautiful of Brazilian 
cities, with large cool houses, and squares and 
gardens gay with wonderful orchids, — purple, 
crimson, gold and white. 

The weeks spent at grandmamma’s were full 
of delight to Affonzo and Lola, and they enjoyed 
all the pleasant happenings of life in the city. 
One day in October they sat in the garden 
playing with the pet monkey, a saucy little 
creature with a thousand cunning tricks and 
ways, almost human in his intelligence. 

44 I wonder how soon we shall go home,” said 
Affonzo. 44 I begin to weary of doing nothing.” 

44 1 do not know,” said Lola. 44 But I heard 

mamma say something strange about it to-day. 

52 


Hn Route to Rio 


53 


She and my father were talking while I was 
playing with the cockatoo and mamma said, 
‘ It will be a long trip and I should dislike to 
leave them behind.’ 4 It would do you little 
good to go with them,’ said my father, and 
mamma replied that the worry of leaving them 
would take away all the pleasure of the trip if 
they were not to accompany her; then she saw 
me looking and bade my father be silent. What 
trip could they mean? ” 

“ I am sure I do not know, and you should 
never remember a conversation not meant for 
you,” said Affonzo, virtuously. Then, his 
curiosity getting the better of his virtue, “ I 
wonder where they can be intending to go ! ” 

“ But if I should not remember what I hear, 
then you should not either,” said Lola pertly, 
for she did not like to have Affonzo correct 
her. 

“ We are two quite different people,” said 
Affonzo. “ I am much older than you.” 


54 Our Little Brazilian Cousin 

“ When one is old, one should behave better 
than one who is young,” Lola retorted. 

“ Both are quite old enough not to quarrel,” 
said their mother’s voice sternly, as she came up 
unnoticed. “ What are you quarrelling about? ” 

Both children were silent and ashamed. 

“ If you dare not tell the cause, then cease the 
quarrel,” said the Senhora. “ And remember 
that well-bred children do not dispute. Now sit 
down while I tell you what is going to hap- 
pen. 

“ Your father has intended for some time to 
make a business trip to Rio de Janeiro, going by 
boat from Para. He wishes me to go with him, 
for I have not been well of late, and he thought 
best to leave you two with your grandmother. 
I wished you to accompany me, and some news 
has just come which has caused him to give his 
consent. 

“ Your Uncle Juan, who went to study 
medicine in Philadelphia, married there a beauti- 


En Route to Rio 


55 


ful North American lady, and has a little daugh- 
ter the age of Affonzo. She is named Maria and 
she had the great misfortune to lose her mother 
a few months ago. She grieves terribly and her 
father is bringing her to Brazil in the hope that 
among his people she will grow well and strong 
again. They will reach Rio de Janeiro in a 
short time, and we want to be there to see them. 
Would you like to go with us on this trip? ” 

“ Indeed yes, mamma ! ” cried both in one 
breath. “ When do we start? ” 

“ To-morrow,” she replied. “ I did not tell 
you before, because I feared you would too 
much excite yourselves. Then too I thought 
something might happen to prevent our going 
and you would be disappointed.” 

“ Hurrah,” cried Affonzo. “ We shall see 
Uncle Hilario ! ” 

“ And I shall see my cousin Martim 1 ” cried 
Lola. 

“ Yes, we shall visit my dear brother, and you 


56 Our Little Brazilian Cousin 

shall have a very happy time with two cousins 
to play with. 

“ Now you must be good children and give 
me a chance to pack up your clothes. No ques- 
tions ! ” She held up her finger playfully. 
“ Those you may save to ask me on ship-board. 
Here is a map which shows just where we are 
going, and you may trace out the course and 
Affonzo can tell you about all the places from 
his geography, Lola,” and she left the two chil- 
dren poring over the geography, their tongues 
fairly clacking in their excitement. 

The Icamiaba is a large steamer plying from 
Manaos to Rio, and by noon the next day the 
little party of four were safely embarked and 
the steamer made its way out of the beautiful 
harbour. The long voyage was begun, but to 
Affonzo and Lola it was not tedious, for, the 
only children on board, they soon became pets 
with all and were in a fair way to being spoiled 
with attention. The second day out the steamer 


En Route to Rio 


57 


made its first stop at Pernambuco on the eastern- 
most point of Brazil, and the children watched 
the entrance into the harbour with great interest. 

“ Pernambuco is called the Venice of Amer- 
ica,” said their father. “ You know Venice is an 
Italian city built on islands, with waterways in- 
stead of streets, and here there are so many 
canals and arms of water reaching in from the 
sea that Pernambuco is called the Venice of 
America.” 

“ What a lot of steamers there are ! ” ex- 
claimed Affonzo as they approached the reef 
which protects the harbour. This reef runs 
along the Brazilian coast for hundreds of miles, 
forming a natural breakwater, sometimes twelve 
feet above high tide. 

“ N-I-L-E,” spelled Affonzo as they passed 
a huge steamer anchored outside the harbour. 
“ What kind of a boat is that? ” 

“ English,” said his father. “ The English 
run a line of steamers from Southampton to 


58 Our Little Brazilian Cousin 


Lisbon, and thence to Rio Janeiro. These boats 
carry a thousand passengers, and are so large 
that they cannot go through the cut in the break- 
water.” 

“ Oh, papa ! What a queer building ! What 
is it? ” asked Lola, as they passed an odd-look- 
ing fort on the rocks. 

“ That is a relic of Dutch days in Brazil,” 
said the Senhor. “ You know the Dutch once 
laid claim to all this part of the country.” 

“ Did they? ” asked Lola in surprise. “ How 
did they get here and what became of them? ” 

“ It is a long story, little one, but quite an in- 
teresting one,” said her father. “ You know 
Brazil was discovered by a Portuguese, Pedro 
Alvarez Cabral, who sailed into the Bay of 
Porto Seguro at Bahia, April 25, 1500, and 
took possession of the land in the name of the 
Portuguese crown, naming it Vera Cruz. The 
Spaniards had made discoveries in the north of 
South America, the English and French had 


En Route to Rio 


59 


come in along the Amazon and within the next 
few years the Dutch entered the river and built 
forts on the Xingu. Then came a long struggle 
between the Dutch and the Portuguese as to 
who should possess the land. In 1624, a Dutch 
admiral took possession of Bahia, but a handful 
of Portuguese recaptured the place the next 
year; then came a succession of battles, first the 
Dutch being victorious, then the Portuguese. At 
last the Dutch sent Prince Maurice of Nassau as 
Governor General of their possessions in Brazil, 
but he returned to Holland in 1644 and from 
that time on the Portuguese were successful. 
They laid siege to Pernambuco (then called 
Recife) and blockaded the port with sea forces 
while the land army assaulted it on the other 
side. The Dutch surrendered in 1654 and 
Brazil became a Portuguese colony.” 

“ Then I suppose everything was peaceful,” 
said Affonzo, but his father laughed and said, 

“ There has not been much peace in Brazil 


6o Our Little Brazilian Cousin 


since the Portuguese first discovered it. After 
the foreigners left, the Indians remained uncon- 
quered, and the Portuguese sent many expedi- 
tions against the natives in the interior. Many 
adventurers went on these expeditions, and they 
were called Bandierantes. 1 They treated the 
Indians cruelly and enslaved many, although the 
Pope had forbidden making slaves of the 
Indians. 

“ Another fight which took place near here 
was with negro slaves. Some of them escaped 
and fled to the forest of Palmeiras, in the 
Province of Alagoas. Here they maintained a 
colony for sixty years and were only subdued in 
1697. Some of their chiefs leaped from a high 
rock into the sea rather than be captured.” 

“ How did they get slaves in our country? ” 
asked Lola. 

“ That’s a rather big subject for such a little 
girl,” said her father. u The early settlers could 
1 Flag bearers. 


En Route to Rio 


61 

not get any one to work for them, so they 
brought black people from Africa, as did most 
of the Southern countries. One good thing was 
that here slavery was abolished without a drop 
of blood being shed, while in North America 
they had a terrible war.” 

“ Now we are entering the harbour, Affonzo. 
See how many ships ! In one year there were 
one thousand one hundred and eighty-one ships 
here ! They come from all parts of the world, 
laden with all manner of things, but they nearly 
all go away freighted with sugar. There are 
thousands of tons of it exported every year. The 
boat will stop here some hours, so we will go 
ashore and drive about the city.” 

“ Oh, thank you, papa,” cried the children, 
and their mother added, “ It will be a pleasant 
change from the ship.” 

So the four went ashore and drove about the 
cheerful city, with its gaily painted houses, pass- 
ing one public building glazed in yellow and 


62 Our Little Brazilian Cousin 

green tiles, another in imitation pink marble 
trimmed in sky blue. Crossing a long bridge, 
they * saw magnificent gardens with brilliant 
flowering plants, and the fine fruit-market where 
they purchased the luscious Pernambuco abacoxi 
the finest-flavoured pineapple in the world. 

“ It is a very fine city,’’ said Affonzo as they 
returned to the steamer. 

“ But not as handsome as Para,” said Lola. 
“ That’s the prettiest city in all Brazil,” and her 
father laughed. 

When they steamed into Bahia two days later 
just at twilight, she still insisted that Para was 
the most beautiful place in the world, but Af- 
fonzo was delighted with Bahia. 

“ Capt. Diego Alvarez was one of the early 
explorers here,” said the Senhor, as they sat 
upon the deck in the moonlight, watching the 
crescent of lights which rise from the harbour 
toward heaven, for the main portion of Bahia is 
built upon a high bluff overlooking the river. 


En Route to Rio 


63 


“ He was captured by the Indians and was 
about to be killed, when the chief’s daughter 
threw herself in front of him and saved his life. 
Alvarez fell in love with her and married her, 
taking her with him to France, where she was 
honoured and cared for all her life. Some of 
the best families in Bahia boast that she is their 
ancestor.” 

“ What are sent out from here? ” asked Af- 
fonzo. 

“ Thousands and thousands of cocoanuts, for 
one thing,” said the Senhor. “ It is a fortune 
for a family to have a cocoa plantation, for the 
trees produce from fifty to eighty years, and 
need little attention after the first year or two. 
They are very easy to raise. After planting, the 
weeds are kept away from the trees, and during 
the first year, banana plants are grown between 
the rows to shade the young trees. The fourth 
year the first crop is gathered and the trees pro- 
duce two hundred clusters of fruit with thirty 


64 Our Little Brazilian Cousin 

or forty nuts each. People net about sixty thou- 
sand dollars a year from a plantation of fifty 
thousand trees.” 

“ It must pay to raise cocoanuts at that rate,” 
said Affonzo. “ Does manaioca pay as well? ” 

“ Not quite, but it is about as easy to raise. 
Everyone has to have manaioca . The rich 
use if for puddings and desserts in the form of 
tapioca, while the poor people use the fari- 
ulia de manaioca 1 as their chief food. It also 
makes good starch, for the roots ground up 
in water deposit their starch as a fine white 
powder.” 

“ A farm of twelve acres belonging to a friend 
of mine and planted with forty thousand plants 
produces eighty thousand pounds of tapioca, 
which at the lowest price brings two thousand 
four hundred and twenty-five dollars.” 

“ The children are growing to be regular lit- 
tle encyclopedias,” said the Senhora. “ They 

1 Tapioca meal. 


En Route to Rio 65 

must go to bed now, or I am afraid their brains 
will burst with so much knowledge.” 

“ Not much danger of that,” laughed the 
Senhor. “ Most of it goes in at one ear and 
comes out the other,” but Lola and Affonzo ex- 
claimed indignantly, “ Oh, no, papa, indeed it 
does not.” 


CHAPTER VII 

IN THE CAPITAL 

A WEEK after they had left home, the chil- 
dren saw for the first time the harbour of Rio 
de Janeiro, the Icamiaba entering the beautiful 
bay between the Sugar Loaf Mountain and the 
Fortress of Santa Cruz, in all the glory of a 
Brazilian sunset. 

At the left was the curious mountain called 
Seria dos Orgaos, so named from its resemblance 
to a church organ. Charming islets dotted the 
bay, and orange trees, bananas, always green 
and loaded with fruit, and flowers everywhere 
met the eye. 

Mountains seemed to rise from the sea; the 
cliffs are nearly perpendicular with scarce a yard 

of greensward at the water’s edge, and they 
66 


In the Capital 


67 


guard jealously the most beautiful harbour in 
the world. Scarcely two ships can enter between 
the islands marking the entrance of the bay, 
which is so narrow that the discoverer thought 
it a river and named it “ Rio.” Within, how- 
ever, the sheet of water widens until it is a 
glorious inner sea, called by the Indians, 
“ Nictheroy ” — Hidden Waters. 

The houses of the city, walled in stucco, are 
of a deep canary yellow with roofs tiled in deep 
red, turning to fire beneath the sun’s departing 
rays. 

“ How beautiful it is,” said the Senhora. “ It 
seems to me my old home never looked so fair! ” 

“ It is one of the most beautiful places in the 
world,” said her husband. “ See those large 
buildings, children. That is the Sailors’ Hospi- 
tal on Ilha da Governador, 1 which was once 
used as a hunting preserve by the royal family. 
It is a beautiful island and many strange things 


1 Governor’s Island. 


68 Our Little Brazilian Cousin 


have happened there. One was the death of the 
founder of the city, Estacio de Sa. He was a 
famous Indian fighter, and here received a fatal 
wound from an arrow.” 

“ Something seems to have happened* every- 
where in Brazil,” said Lola. “ How near we 
are to land.” y 

“ Yes,” cried her mother. “ And there is 
your uncle waving his hat upon the wharf. 
Martim is with him! He sees us! Wave to 
him, daughter! ” and the usually calm Senhora, 
flushed and excited, waved her handkerchief, 
smiling happily. 

u I have not seen you look so gay for many 
months,” said her husband, and she replied, “ It 
is so long since I have seen my dear old home 
and my own people ! ” 

Soon the ship was made fast, and the children 
stepped off the gang plank to be greeted warmly 
by the uncle whom they had not seen since Lola 




“THE CHILDREN SAW FOR THE FIRST TIME THE HARBOUR 

OF RIO DE JANEIRO.” 



In the Capital 69 

was a baby, and the cousin whom they had never 
seen before. 

“ Your Aunt Luiza and Maria are anxiously 
awaiting you at home,” he said. “ Here is the 
carriage, so we will hasten.” 

“ Drive through the Street do Ouvidor, papa, 
will you not?” asked Martim. “ It is so gay 
with the French shops, my cousins will enjoy 
it.” 

Martim was a handsome boy of twelve, with 
a bright, pleasant face, an only child, for the 
Senhor and Senhora Lopez had lost all their 
other children in an epidemic of yellow fever 
some years before. 

“ What are those men doing with long poles 
over their shoulders,” asked Lola, pointing to 
several men who carried bamboo rods with 
baskets hung at the ends. 

“ They are fish and vegetable vendors,” 
Martim replied. “ Some of those baskets weigh 
over a hundred pounds. Those other men with 


70 Our Little Brazilian Cousin 

the gaily-painted tin trunks on their backs peddle 
clothing.’* 

“ They make a lot of noise,” said Affonzo. 

“ Yes, they warn people they are coming by 
clapping together two pieces of wood fastened 
to their hands by a leather strap,” said his 
cousin. 

“ Oh! What a beautiful statue! ” cried Lola. 

“ That is the Emperor Dom Pedro I,” said 
her uncle. “ It was made by a noted French 
sculptor and represents the Emperor shouting 
the Brazilian watch word ‘Independence ou 
morte .’ 1 Here we are at home ! ” as the car- 
riage turned into a broad street on either side of 
which were old fashioned houses with broad 
verandas and red and white blinds. “ There is 
Aunt Luiza waiting to welcome you ! ” 

The children jumped out of the carriage and 
ran to meet their aunt, who kissed them warmly 
and drew forward a tall girl of ten, who looked 
1 Independence or death. 


7i 


In the Capital 

pale and sad. Her hair was very light, her eyes 
deep blue, and she was a great contrast to black- 
eyed, brown-cheeked Lola. 

“ This is Maria, your North American 
cousin,” said their aunt, and Lola kissed her 
warmly on either cheek. 

“ We are so glad to have you come, ’’ she said. 
“ And my mother is going to take you home 
with us for a nice long visit. I have always 
wanted a sister, so let us play we are sisters.” 

Maria kissed her and smiled, while Aunt 
Luiza said, “ Come, children, it is very late; 
dinner is waiting and then all you little folk must 
get to bed early so you will be ready for to- 
morrow. There are ever so many things for 
you to see.” 

Early next day the four cousins set out for a 
morning’s sight-seeing, accompanied by their 
Uncle Hilario. The Senhor Lopez was one of 
those rare men who are really fond of children, 
and he enjoyed their society. 


72 Our Little Brazilian Cousin 

Most of the streets of the city have no curb- 
ing, and the children had to be careful lest they 
be run down by passing carriages. 

Their uncle decided first to take them to the 
famous Botanical Gardens and as they entered 
the main gateway, they saw the avenue of fine 
royal palms. 

“ The avenue is almost half a mile long,” said 
the Senhor. “ And the trees are a hundred feet 
high.” 

“ Aren’t they fine,” said Affonzo. “ They 
are the tallest palms I ever saw.” 

“ They meet together at the top and form a 
regular archway the whole length of the walk,” 
said Martim. 

“What is that very high mountain?” asked 
Lola. 

“ That is the Corcovado, and some day we 
shall go over there and ascend it,” said Martim. 
u We shall have to start very early in the 
morning, for it is a long trip.” 


In the Capital 


73 


“ Here comes Doctor Barbosa, papa,” said 
Martim. “ I wonder if he will go around the 
gardens with us.” 

“ Perhaps he will, if he is not too busy. If 
he does, he can tell you all about the trees and 
flowers for he has explored the country along 
the Amazon and knows all about the Brazilian 
flora.” 

As the Senhor spoke, Doctor Barbosa came up 
smiling, for he and Senhor Lopez were old 
friends. 

“ You have quite a bevy of little folk with 
you to-day,” he said pleasantly. 

“ This is my nephew, Affonzo Diaz, Doctor 
Barbosa,” said the Senhor. “ And these girls 
are my nieces, Charlotta and Maria. Of course 
you know Martim.” 

“ I am very glad to see you all,” said the 
doctor with a smile. 

“ This is the first visit of Affonzo and his 
sister to our city,” said Senhor Lopez. 


74 Our Little Brazilian Cousin 

44 Indeed,” replied the doctor. “ I really 
think then that you should let me help show 
them around the gardens. I have a few 
moments of leisure just now, that I will be glad 
to devote to you.” 

44 That will be delightful,” said the Senhor. 
44 You know so much about this place and I so 
little that I am sure the children will much 
prefer you as a guide.” Bowing- in appreciation 
of the compliment, the doctor led the party 
down the avenue. 

44 These gardens,” he said, pointing down 
across the avenue, 44 as you see, are on the border 
of a large sheet of water. That is called the 
Lagoa de Rodrigo Freitas, and is separated 
from the sea only by a narrow strip of sand.” 

44 What are those crooked, twisted trees,” 
asked Lola, as they passed into another long 
avenue. 

44 They are mangoes. They are not very 


In the Capital 75 

handsome to look at, but you know what de- 
licious fruit they bear.” 

“ Indeed I do,” said Lola. 

“ This,” said the doctor, pointing to a tall 
palm beside the pathway, “ is a Bahia palm. It 
is from trees of this kind that your brooms and 
brushes at home are made.” 

Next they saw the great candelabra tree. 

“ It looks,” said Maria, “ as if it were already 
to be lighted for church, doesn’t it? ” 

“ See the beautiful grove of orange trees,” 
said the Senhor. 

“ Oh yes,” said Affonzo. “ And the trees have 
both fruit and blossoms on them.” 

“ That is not at all uncommon with many of 
our tropical fruit trees,” said Doctor Barbosa. 

“ Many of the trees here,” he continued, “ are 
useful for other purposes than fruit-bearing. 
There is the cow tree over yonder. Its sap 
looks like milk, and when exposed to the air is 


76 Our Little Brazilian Cousin 

soon changed to glue, and from this a useful 
cement is made.” 

As the party approached a little lake in the 
centre of the gardens, they saw a small eight- 
sided pavilion. On its top was a bust. 

“Whose statue is that?” asked Affonzo. 

“ If you will step closer, you can read the in- 
scription on the tablet,” said the doctor. “ And 
that will answer your question.” 

“ To the Memory of Friar Leandro do Sacramento 
of the Order of Carmelites, a graduate in the 
natural sciences at the University of Coimbra, first 
professor of botany in the School of Medicine in 
Rio, and first technical director of the Botanical 
Gardens.” 

“ If I can do as much for this beautiful park 
as Friar Leandro did, I shall be content,” said 
Doctor Barbosa. 

“ What a magnificent palm that is ! ” said the 
Senhor Lopez, as they turned from the pavilion 
and came in sight of an unusually tall tree. 


In the Capital 


77 


“ Yes,” said the doctor, “ that is a royal palm, 
over one hundred and twenty-five feet high. 
The seed is said to have been brought here by 
a Portuguese naval officer who escaped from 
prison on the Isle de France. It was planted 
with great care by the regent, Dom Joao him- 
self, and here is the splendid result. I am sorry 
that I must leave you now, but you must come 
again to see the gardens.” 

“ Thank you very much for all that you have 
shown us,” said Affonzo, and all the children 
chorused, “ Thank you very much.” 

“ It is past noon and we ought to be at home 
now,” said the Senhor looking at his watch. 

“ I believe I am hungry,” said Martim, 
“ though I hadn’t thought about it before.” 

So they all went back to the house with ap- 
petites such as the balmy air of Rio gives to 
young and vigorous boys and girls. 


CHAPTER VIII 

A GALA DAY IN RIO 

In the fortnight which followed the four 
cousins became very well acquainted with each 
other. Maria soon lost her shyness, and taught 
the others many new games and sports, while 
they in turn taught her the Brazilian ones which 
her father had played when a boy at home. 

The little Brazilians found their North Amer- 
ican cousin very interesting. She was different 
from them in many ways and they never tired of 
hearing her tell of things in the United States. 
Although admiring her father’s country very 
much, she was devoted to her mother’s as well, 
and could never be made to admit that things 
were better in South America than they were in 
the north. 


78 


A Gala Day in Rio 


79 


“ Come, children,” said the Senhora Lopez 
one morning, “ this is the day of the inaugura- 
tion. The President himself has given your 
father tickets, for they are great friends and we 
must all be ready early so as to escape the 
crowd.” 

“ Indeed, mamma,” said Martim, “ I think 
the crowd’s the greatest fun of all. I shall never 
forget the procession the day of the parade in 
honour of your Senhor Root, Maria. It was one 
of the finest we ever had in Rio.” 

“ I wish I had seen it,” said Maria. “ When 
our President is inaugurated we have grand pro- 
cessions in Washington. My grandfather took 
me to the last one, and it was splendid.” 

“ Our inauguration procession is fine, too. 
You will see to-day that they know how to do 
things down here as well as you do,” said 
Martim, as they started for the reviewing- 
stand. 

“ I don’t doubt that,” said Maria pleasantly. 


8o Our Little Brazilian Cousin 


“ But I can’t quite make out why you have a 
President at all. Brazil used to be an empire 
and have a splendid emperor. You showed me 
his statue in the park. What became of him? ” 

“ The last emperor of Brazil is dead, my 
child,” said her uncle. “ He died in Paris in 
1891, some said of a broken heart, because he 
had been sent away from his beloved Brazil.” 

“ Why did you send him away; wasn’t he a 
good man?” asked Maria. 

“ Yes, indeed, very good, and many of the 
people were very fond of him,” was the reply. 
“ He was always interested in the people and 
tried to arrange the laws for their best interests. 
He was very democratic and travelled about 
a great deal, keeping his eyes wide open to learn 
everything which might help his people. He 
even went to your United States at the time of 
the Centennial in Philadelphia.” 

“ If he was so good, why did they send him 
away? ” asked Maria puzzled. 


A Gala Day in Rio 81 

“ It is rather hard to explain politics to little 
folk,” said her uncle, smiling. 

“ Some of the Brazilians wanted to have a 
republic like the United States, for they thought 
that country was so prosperous that they wanted 
Brazil to be like it. 

“ The people thought that the United States 
had progressed more rapidly and was more 
prosperous than Brazil and they did not see why 
their own land should not be as great or greater 
than any other American country. Brazil was 
the only South American country which was not 
a republic. I think the chief reason, however, 
was that the heir to the throne was not at all 
liked, and the Brazilians were afraid that he 
would not be as wise a ruler as Dom Pedro had 
been. Even those who most wanted a republic 
were sorry to have the old emperor expelled, and 
many of them cried bitterly when he went 
away.” 

“ I should think they might have waited until 


82 Our Little Brazilian Cousin 

he died,” said Maria. “ If he was old he 
wouldn’t have lived long, and then they needn’t 
have had his heir whom they didn’t like. I do 
not think it was nice at all to send him away 
when he had always been good and kind.” 

“ If it had been in the United States you 
would have shot him, like you do your Presi- 
dents, wouldn’t you?” asked Affonzo mischie- 
vously, for he loved to tease his cousin. 

“We have only had three Presidents killed 
out of twenty-six,” said Maria. “ How many 
of yours have been assassinated?” 

“ I’m sure I don’t know,” said Affonzo, rather 
taken aback at the quickness of her retort. 

“ In the early days,” said Uncle Hilario, “ be- 
fore the republic was very firmly established, the 
Presidents used to have to be taken from the 
army so they could fight to keep their positions. 
Now, however, things are quieter and we do not 
have to have our ruler backed by sword and 
guns.” 


A Gala Day in Rio 


83 


“ Here we are at the grand stand. The music 
is just beginning to draw near. Hurrah ! There 
come the soldiers ! ” cried Affonzo. “ Aren’t 
they fine-looking fellows ! ” 

“ What gorgeous uniforms they have ! ” cried 
Lola, and Maria exclaimed, 

“ Aren’t the plumed horses splendid ! ” And 
they chattered all at once till their uncle fairly 
covered his ears with his hands. 

They had a good look at the two Presidents 
— President Campos-Salles whose term of office 
was just over, and Affonzo Penna who was the 
new President — and returned home quite ex- 
cited with the events of the morning. 

Next day they had planned an excursion to 
the top of Corcovado, that beautiful mountain 
which rises above Rio, serene and lofty, toward 
the clouds, and all was excitement as the little 
party started off. 

“ Think of having mamma with us ! ” cried 


84 Our Little Brazilian Cousin 


Lola. “ Uncle Hilario, have you and mamma 
been up the mountain before? ” 

“ I should say we had,” he laughed, then 
turning to his sister, “ Do you remember the 
time we were caught in the terrible storm? ” 

“ It was a terrific cloud burst, but we didn’t 
mind it,” she said, laughing too. “ In those days 
climbing Corcovado was something of a feat. 
There was no cog-wheel railway as there is to- 
day but only a bridle-path. We had to start long 
before daybreak and climb up the side of the 
mountain. We had to take servants along to 
carry provisions and there was always a large 
party going. 

“ The time your uncle speaks of, he and I got 
separated from the rest of the party going down 
and we came near losing our way entirely. 
There came up a terrible storm and when we 
finally arrived at home an hour after the others 
we were drenched to the skin, and they had sent 
people out to hunt for us. 


A Gala Day in Rio 85 

u It is a very different thing to-day to go up 
the mountain seated in a carriage, find a cafe at 
the top, and have nothing to do but look at the 
sights as we pass. They are well worth looking 
at ! See ! There is the bay, its water as blue as 
the sky, and you get a fine view of the old aque- 
duct.” 

44 I wondered what that was,” said Maria. 
“ It looks like the pictures I have seen of the 
Campagna at Rome. Is it made of stone? ” 

“ Yes,” said her uncle. 44 It was built of stone 
nearly two hundred years ago and is over four 
miles long. In some places its arches are over 
sixty feet high and it is as strong as when it was 
built. Through it passes all the water drunk in 
Rio, and is so delicious that we have a saying 
4 Who has drunk of the waters of Carioca can 
drink no other water,’ and 4 When you have 
drunk of the water of Carioca, you can live no- 
where else but here.’ ” 

44 When Rio people speak of the friends who 


86 Our Little Brazilian Cousin 

have lived in Rio they say, ‘ He is a Cario- 
can.” 

“Then mamma is a Cariocan! ’’ cried Lola, 
and Maria added, 

“ And my father, too.” 

“ It seems to almost walk across the chasm,” 
said Affonzo. “ Where does the water come 
from? ” 

“ When we reach the top of the mountain, I 
will show you,” said his uncle. “ See those 
magnificent waterfalls and cascades ! The 
scenery around here is as fine as any in Brazil.” 

“ It is almost as nice as the White Mountains 
at home,” said Maria wickedly. She loved to 
stir up her cousins and knew that to compare 
anything with the States always provoked a dis- 
cussion. This time her remarks were met with 
a storm of protest, at which she only laughed 
naughtily. 

“ I don’t believe you have such trees,” said 
Lola at last. “ There are mangoes, tamarinds, 


A Gala Day in Rio 


87 


bread-fruits, bananas, cocoa trees, oranges and 
palms all growing together. Aren’t they splen- 
did?” 

“ Yes, indeed,” said Maria. “ And the 
flowers are simply gorgeous. Those trees with 
the flowering vine all draped around them and 
hanging down in long racemes are as beautiful 
as anything I ever saw.” 

“ Here we are at the end of the railway,” said 
Martim. “ Now for a climb.” 

It was but a short distance to the top, and the 
children hurried along, followed more slowly by 
their elders. 

“ Here we are at last,” said the Senhor as they 
reached the top. “Now you can see seventy 
miles, for there is Organ Mount fifty miles away, 
and yonder is Cape Frio, which is seventy miles 
away.” 

“ Among the mountain peaks there lies the 
sea of gold,” said Uncle Hilario. “ There is a 
tale told that in the early Portuguese days in 


88 Our Little Brazilian Cousin 

Brazil a murderer, who had been condemned to 
death, escaped from prison and fled to the hills. 
He wandered about, fed only by the bounty of 
the forest and at last he discovered the Lake of 
Gold. From its shining sands he made a 
fortune, and returned in two years to Rio to buy 
his pardon.” 

“ The Lake of Gold,” said Affonzo. “ I won- 
der if that is where the Gilded Man washed him- 
self.” 

“ Who was the Gilded Man? ”, asked Maria. 

“ It’s an Indian story Vicente told me,” said 
Affonzo. 

“ Do tell it to me,” she said, and he told her 
the quaint tale with which she was delighted. 

They lunched in picnic fashion on the grass 
and had a merry time, resting afterwards while 
the Senhora and Uncle Hilario told them stories 
of old days in Brazil. At last it came time to re- 
turn and the two boys, after whispering to- 
gether went to their uncle with a request. 


A Gala Day in Rio 89 

“ May we not walk down? ” Martim asked. 
“We won’t get lost and we want to do what you 
and mother did.” 

“ Oh, do let us ! ” cried Maria, who always 
wanted to do every thing the boys did, but the 
Senhora shook her head. At last it was arranged 
that Uncle Hilario should walk down with the 
boys, while the girls went discreetly home in the 
train with the Senhora. The boys were jubilant. 

“ See the ships, uncle,” cried Affonzo as they 
looked across the bay to the broad Atlantic. 
“ They are just over the horizon line. What’s 
that puff of smoke for? ” as a puff came from 
a ship nearing the harbour. 

“ Watch the fort,” said the Senhor, and there 
another puff was seen. “ Eyes are better than 
ears at this range. That was a salute from the 
ship answered by the guns from the fort. We 
can see the smoke, but cannot hear the report. 

“ Here is the source of Carioca. The name 
is from an Indian word, Kaa-ry-og, and means 


90 Our Little Brazilian Cousin 

‘ the house of the streams from the woods.’ See 
how the stream is shaded by these giant trees? 
That is what makes it so cold. The water flows 
amidst all manner of sweet-smelling aromatic 
plants, and goes into an aqueduct full of pleas- 
ant scents. It is said to have some medicinal 
qualities.” 

“ It is nice enough here to cure any sickness,” 
said Martim, and they went slowly on down 
the mountain, following the same bridle-path 
which their uncle had followed so many years 
before, reaching home without any accident, 
tired but delighted with the tramp. 


CHAPTER IX 


THE COFFEE PLANTATION 

The Senhor Lopez’ business was to export 
coffee, as that of his brother-in-law was to export 
rubber. He had a large coffee fazenda in Sao 
Paulo, the province of Brazil most devoted to 
coffee raising, and he often went there to in- 
spect the plantation. He suggested therefore 
that his wife, his sister, and the children should 
spend a week with him at the fazenda, and the 
two mothers decided to do so, knowing how 
much pleasure it would give the little folk. It 
was an all day’s ride to Sao Paulo, but there was 
so much to see as the train moved over the plains, 
across rivers and through forests and hills, that 
the children did not find it tiresome, and were 


92 Our Little Brazilian Cousin 

very bright and gay as, just at sunset, they 
neared Sao Paulo. 

“ This is one of the finest cities of Brazil,” 
said their uncle. “ Ten years ago it was not a 
large place but now it has three hundred thou- 
sand people, many beautiful buildings, electric 
lights and trolley cars. It has also some very 
good schools and colleges, and students come 
here from all parts of the country. Perhaps 
Affonzo will go to college here some day.” 

“ It seems a good ways from home,” said the 
boy. “ But uncle,” he added, as they passed a 
crowd of queer looking people in the station, 
“ what a lot of foreigners there are here ! ” 

“ Yes, more than in any other Brazilian city. 
A number of Italians work in the mills and on 
the farms, and the Germans are on the coffee 
plantations. 

“ To-night we will rest, and to-morrow morn- 
ing we will see Sao Paulo, and in the afternoon 


The Coffee Plantation 


93 


go to the fazenda ” said the Senhor, as they 
reached the hotel. 

The next day they had a pleasant drive 
through the city and saw many interesting 
things. 

“ Mackenzie College is one of the best seats 
of learning in Brazil,” said the uncle. “ It is 
on the plan of the North American colleges, 
with kindergarten, primary grades and grammar 
school. There is also a normal school and a 
manual training shop.” 

“ You see, you have to copy us,” said Maria 
with a laugh. “ All the schools in the States are 
good. You ought to live there.” 

Martim made a wry face. 

“ Maybe they are,” he said, “ but I don’t be- 
lieve I’d care to live in the States just on account 
of the schools when I can live here, and have a 
school just as good.” 

“ Children ! ” said Martini’s mother, but his 
father hastily interposed, 


94 Our Little Brazilian Cousin 

“ Mackenzie College is named for Mr. John 
G. Mackenzie, of New York City, who gave a 
large sum of money to build it. But here we are 
at the Garden of Light. Now you may get out 
of the carriage and rest yourselves by running 
about these magnificent alleys of trees, seeing 
the lakes and fountains.” 

“ Maria and Martim do not get along as well 
as the little girl and Affonzo,” he said to his 
wife, as soon as the children were out of sight. 

“ It doesn’t matter,” she said serenely. “ It 
does not hurt either of them to argue if it 
doesn’t go too far. Children are far better for 
not being noticed. Affonzo gets along better 
with his cousin because he has Lola to quarrel 
with; Martim grows selfish from being too much 
alone.” She sighed and her husband’s face 
clouded as he thought of the children they had 
lost. 

“ We will keep Maria with us if the father is 
willing, as long as she is in Brazil.” 


The Coffee Plantation 95 

“ Better still, let both Maria and Martim 
return home with us,” said the Senhora Dias. 
“ Then all four young folk will learn to ac- 
comodate themselves to each other.” 

“ That is an excellent plan, and it is kind in 
you to suggest it,” said the Senhora Lopez, and 
her husband added, 

“ We shall try to arrange it that way.” 

“ Come, children,” he called a few minutes 
later. “ We must return for lunch now as we 
drive to the fazenda afterwards. Do you know 
what we old folk have been planning?” 

“ No, papa, what is it? ” asked Martim. 

“ Something pleasant, I am sure,” said Lola. 
“ For you are the dearest uncle in the world.” 

“ Thank you, little flatterer,” he pinched her 
cheek playfully. “ It is that you four cousins 
are all to return to Para for the winter.” 

“ Oh, delightful,” cried Lola. 

“ How nice ! ” Maria said, and the boys 
seemed equally pleased. 


96 Our Little Brazilian Cousin 

The afternoon air was clear and bracing, and 
the children were in high spirits as the party 
drove to the fazenda. 

The road wound through a beautiful country, 
past vineyards, and tea and coffee plantations, 
for Sao Paulo is one of the most productive 
provinces of Brazil. As they passed row after 
row of small trees Lola said, 

“ What pretty, glossy leaves those trees 
have ! ” 

“ Those are coffee trees,” said Martim. 
“ They grow about twelve feet tall.” 

“ But where are the brown berries,” asked 
Maria. “ Are they all picked? ” 

Martim laughed. 

“ It’s easy to see that you’ve never seen coffee 
growing,” he said. “ Did you think you could 
go and pick the browned berries and stew a pot 
of coffee? ” 

“ No,” said Maria demurely, “ because we 
don’t ‘ stew ’ coffee where I live.” 


The Coffee Plantation 97 

Everybody laughed at this passage-at-arms 
between the two children, and Senhor Lopez 
said, 

“ We are beginning to see trees belonging to 
our plantation now. It is three miles square 
and we have just reached the edge of the land. 
The house is still three miles away.” 

“ How does the coffee grow, Uncle Hilario? ” 
asked Maria. 

“ Do you see the cluster of green pods on the 
trees, my dear? Well, seeds are within the pods, 
and when they are ripened must be dried, roasted 
and ground before they are ready for your coffee- 
pot. Later in the season the fruit turns bright 
red in colour, and makes a vivid contrast to the 
foliage of the trees, which is green the year 
around.” 

“ Are the trees planted, or do they grow wild 
like our rubber trees? ” asked Affonzo. 

“ They are planted in rows and sometimes 
grow as high as twenty-five feet. Usually they 


98 Our Little Brazilian Cousin 

are between ten and fifteen feet high when they 
first bear fruit,” said the Senhor. “ It takes 
from three to five years for them to bear.” 

“When is the harvest time?” asked Maria. 

“We have two crops so there are two 
harvests, one in February and one in August. 
Sometimes you see fruit and flowers on the same 
tree at the same time. The blossoms grow in 
little white bunches and are very fragrant.” 

“ I should think it would take a lot of people 
to pick all this coffee,” said Affonzo. 

“ It does. If you were to be here next Feb- 
ruary you would see hundreds of negroes and 
Italians, men, women, and children, busy up and 
down these long rows. Many of them live in 
those little houses,” he said, pointing to a street 
lined with small wooden huts crowded close to- 
gether. About the houses were scores of small, 
dark-skinned children at play. 

“ At the present time,” said the Senhor, “ the 
men and women are at work in the sheds and 


The Coffee Plantation 


99 


ware-houses making the coffee ready for market. 
We shall ship thousands of pounds next month. 
To-morrow I will take you about and show 
you what we have to do. I wish you might have 
been here during the harvest season. It is very 
interesting to watch the pickers with the huge 
baskets strapped to their shoulders. There is 
great rivalry among them to see who can be the 
fastest picker on the place.” 

Before they reached the fazenda their car- 
riage passed through two gates which closed 
after them with a spring, and the Senhor said, 

“ The fazenda factory is always enclosed by 
one and sometimes two fences, for the cattle 
graze loose with only a pickaninny or the 
madrinla 1 to watch them.” 

“ It looks like a fortress,” said Maria. 

“ Yes, and some fazendas are called Tortaleza’ 
for that very reason,” said her uncle. 

“ It is really very much like the old fortresses 
1 The 


ioo Our Little Brazilian Cousin 

of feudal times, within the walls of which went 
on all manner of things. Inside the fazenda 
palisades there are the houses of the labourers, 
apothecary’s shop, hospital, ware-houses, and 
terrerios, 1 besides the house of the owner.” 

“ Why are there so few trees? ” asked Lola. 

“ Nearly all the trees are cut down to make 
pasture lands and only a few shade trees are 
left, such as those fine palms. Here we are at 
the house. When you are rested I will take you 
about and show you how the coffee is made ready 
for market.” 


1 Drying fields. 


CHAPTER X 


A TREAT IN PROSPECT 

The week at the fazenda was a time of pleas- 
ant rest to the elders and full of delight to the 
children. They rode the horses and saw the 
cows milked and fed the pigs. These last were 
always taken very good care of by the fazen- 
deiro, 1 for they afford the principal food for all 
on the plantation. 

There was very little in regard to coffee-rais- 
ing that the children did not learn, for their in- 
quisitive little noses were poked into every shed 
and room to see what was going on. Their 
Uncle Hilario went with them one day and ex- 
plained it all fully while they listened eagerly. 

“ First the coffee goes to this large shed and 

1 Owner of the plantation. 
ioi 


102 Our Little Brazilian Cousin 


is dumped into the great vat,” he said. “ The 
iron thing in the centre of the vat is the pulping 
machine. You see it is round like a cylinder and 
covered with teeth, and there are holes in the 
bottom. The teeth are covered on one side with 
a curved sheet of metal. When the cylinder re- 
volves, water is turned into the vat, and as it 
flows through, the seeds are carried through the 
holes in the cylinder into tanks where the re- 
maining matter is washed away. 

“ Then they go to the drying terrace,” he 
said as they left the building and went toward a 
large piece of ground exposed to the blazing 
sun and covered with cement. “ Here it is. 
After the pulp has been removed from the seeds 
there is left a thin skin. The seeds are spread 
in thin layers upon the ground and left to dry 
thoroughly in the sun, while workmen constantly 
turn them over and over with rakes to hasten 
the drying.” 


A Treat in Prospect 103 

“ How long does it take to dry them? ” asked 
Martim. 

“ Several weeks/’ said his father. “ On some 
fazendas they use steam heat, but we like the 
sun-dried coffee much the best. After the seeds 
are thoroughly dried they are taken to another 
building and passed through heavy rollers and 
the chaff separated and blown away. 

“ Now we will go to the sorting room,” and 
they entered a long, low building where a num- 
ber of women and girls were working at long 
tables piled with heaps of coffee berries. Men 
were constantly bringing in baskets full of the 
berries, which the women and girls sorted into 
different grades according to their quality. 

“ How fast their fingers fly,” said Maria. 
“ I don’t see how they do it.” 

“ They have done it so often and practice 
makes perfect,” said her uncle. “ As they sort 
the seeds they put them in sacks and the men 
carry them to another ware-house, where they 


104 Our Little Brazilian Cousin 

are packed in sacks and weighed ready to be 
shipped.” 

“ Uncle, what are those girls doing who are 
flying about everywhere with sieves in their 
hands?” asked Lola. 

“ They gather up all the berries which the 
men scatter as they carry the coflee about,” he 
answered. “ You see we do not want to waste 
anything. 

“ Do you see those wagons being loaded? 
The coffee in those sacks is ready to go to Sao 
Paulo, and thence to Santos to be shipped to 
North America. Our coffee goes to every part 
of the world, for the coffee of the Fazenda 
Esperanqa is considered especially good. 

“ Now you have followed the coffee berry 
from the tree to the market and I hope you will 
try to remember all about it, for the coffee in- 
dustry is one of the greatest in the country.” 

“ It’s ever so interesting, uncle,” said Maria. 
“ And thank you for telling us about it.” 


A Treat in Prospect 105 

“ I have enjoyed it more than you have,” he 
answered. “ It is a pleasure to talk to such eager 
little listeners. 

“ Rest yourselves now, for you must be tired 
with all this tramping. I am going to the house 
to see your mother about some plans for to- 
morrow.” 

“ Do tell us, uncle,” they all cried, but he only 
shook his head and laughed as he went away. 

“ I shall simply die of curiosity if I do not 
find out what uncle is planning,” said Maria. 

“ I don’t see what good that would do,” said 
Martim, “ for you wouldn’t be likely to either 
know about it or to do it if you were dead.” 

Maria made a naughty little face at him, and 
a quarrel seemed imminent when Lola, who had 
gone to the house when her uncle did, came run- 
ning toward them waving her hand wildly. 

“ Oh! What do you think! ” she cried as she 
ran up to them. “ The loveliest thing has hap- 
pened.” 


106 Our Little Brazilian Cousin 

“ What? ” cried all the children at once, but 
Lola was too out of breath to answer. 

“Uncle Hilario is certainly a darling! ” she 
said at last. “ He has prepared the loveliest 
treat for us ! He says that to-morrow we all 
start for the Falls of Iguazu, and Maria, your 
father has come and — ” but she had no chance 
to finish her sentence, for Martim shouted, 
“The Falls of Iguazu! Hurrah!’’ and ran off 
to the house, while Maria with a squeal of 
“ Daddy! ” pelted after him as fast as she could 
go. Lola and Affonzo looked at each other and 
laughed. 

“ What’s it all about, Lolita? ” he asked and 
she answered, 

“ Uncle Hilario told me that they had only 
been awaiting Uncle Juan’s arrival to make the 
excursion to these wonderful falls and that we 
start to-morrow.” 

“Where are the falls?” asked Affonzo. 

“ Indeed, I don’t know, but it is several days’ 


A Treat in Prospect 107 

journey and we can go only part of the way by 
train. We must take a boat and perhaps ride 
upon burros. It is far in the woods, and very 
few people go there.” 

“ Let us go and find out all about it,” said 
Affonzo, and the two children hurried to the 
house as the rest of the party had done. 

There they found considerable excitement, 
every one asking a thousand questions which 
were not answered until the mothers placed their 
fingers in their ears and demanded silence. 
Maria was seated upon her father’s knees, her 
usually sober little face bright with happiness, 
as she whispered to Lola, “ He is going to 
Para with us, to stay all winter, so I can be with 
him and have you too ! ” Lola gave her hand 
a loving squeeze, but said nothing, for Uncle 
Hilario began to speak. 

“ The Falls of Iguazu, children, are one of 
the most beautiful places in all Brazil. They 
lie at the joining of the Parana and Iguazu 


108 Our Little Brazilian Cousin 

rivers, at the point where the frontiers of Brazil, 
Paraguay and Argentina meet. We will go by 
rail to Curitaba but part of the way lies through 
the mountains and will be hard to travel. The 
sail down the river will be delightful. Your 
mother, Martim, will stay here on the planta- 
tion, and any one who wishes may stay with her. 
Uncle Juan, Martim and I, your father and 
mother, Lola, are going. Who else wants to be 
in the party? ” 

“ I ! ” cried all three children at once, and 
Lola added, 

“ We’ll be so good, uncle, if we can only 
go!” 

“ Well, you may all go, then,” said the Sen- 
hor Lopez, “ and I think it will be a delightful 
trip. No — ” as they all started to ask ques- 
tions — “ don’t ask me a thing to-day. There 
will be plenty of time to talk about it on our 
journey, and I have not a moment to spare, for 


A Treat in Prospect 109 

it takes a great deal of planning to get such a 
party off.” 

“ Yes, and I have all I can possibly attend to,” 
said Lola’s mother. “ So you little folk must 
amuse yourselves.” 

“ I am the only one who has nothing to do,” 
said Uncle Juan. “ Suppose you all come out 
under the palms with me, and I will try to tell 
you something of the country we are going to 
see.” So joyfully they trooped after him and 
listened spellbound to his words. 

“ The country where we are going,” he said, 
“ is called the ‘ Land of the Missiones ’ because 
it is here that the early missions were founded by 
the Jesuits. These devoted men went all over 
that part of Brazil trying to convert the Indians 
and making settlements, some of which are still 
standing after two hundred years. San Ignacio, 
though deserted by the Indians, is still in exist- 
ance near Iguazu and there was once there a 
prosperous Indian settlement built around a 


no Our Little Brazilian Cousin 

plaza, with a school, dwelling houses and a 
church. 

“ The falls are magnificent, but you will have 
to wait and see them before you can understand 
how really beautiful they are.” 

“ Not so beautiful as Niagara, father, of 
course!” said Maria, and her father said, 
“ Some people think they are quite as fine, 
daughter ; but have you a chip on your shoulder 
now about the States? Maria would never 
admit to any North American that anything in 
the States could be finer than it was down here,” 
he added to the boys. 

Martim exclaimed, “ Well, she’s a queer sort 
of a girl! She never would let us praise any- 
thing here, because she’d always say the States 
were finer.” 

“ The States were mamma’s,” she murmured, 
and her father held her close and kissed her as he 
whispered, “ Little Loyalty! ” 


CHAPTER XI 

THE FALLS OF IGUAZU 

The morning dawned cool and pleasant. All 
were ready for an early start and there followed 
a week of delight for the children. The railway 
journey over, they took their way through the 
forests, over plains and across rivers. In some 
the hoofs of the horses or of the sure-footed 
little burros the children rode sank in the sand 
which covered the land as at one time the sea 
had covered it. Again, trees appeared, and at 
last they reached the virgin forest where 
monkeys scampered among the trees and the 
cries of parrots were heard in the air, as their 
brilliant plumage flashed in the sunlight. 

At times the bridle path was so narrow that no 


iii 


1 12 Our v Little Brazilian Cousin 

two horses could have passed each other had 
they met. 

Convolvulus and creeping plants encircled the 
huge trees, and, swaying in the breeze, long vines 
swung gracefully down, often forming natural 
swings in which the children delighted. At night 
the party camped in tents, the negro servants 
cooking wonderful meals from the game shot 
during the day. 

The days were not too hot and at night a fire 
was often necessary, for when the terral 1 did not 
blow from the land the veracao 2 wafted zephyrs 
from the ocean. The air was laden with the 
subtle perfume of the magnolia and orange blos- 
som, and life seemed an existence of pleasure 
and joy. 

The Senhor’s trip had not been all for 
pleasure. It was his intention to increase his 
export trade in native woods, and he had made 
the journey through the forest to see whether it 
1 Land breeze. 2 Sea breeze. 


The Falls of Iguazu 113 

would be possible to get wood to the sea, were 
he to buy a tract of land in this region. The 
children, however, knew nothing about this. 
They were occupied with having a good time, 
and they were having it. 

Martim and Affonzo hunted and fished, while 
the girls vied with each other in weaving rush 
baskets and in making flower-chains of the won- 
derful flowers which grew everywhere along the 
road, in gorgeous beauty. 

As they neared Iguazu, the roar of the cataract 
could be heard for miles, and when they finally 
saw the falls, beyond the first surprised “ Oh ! ” 
which broke from all, there was nothing said. 

The river Iguazu makes a sharp bend above 
the falls and a portion of it rushes around the 
inner bank and falls into a gorge two hundred 
and ten feet deep; the remainder of the current, 
however, sweeps over the edge of a cliff and 
making two great leaps of a hundred feet falls 
in a huge half moon three thousand feet wide. 


1 14 Our Little Brazilian Cousin 

All about was the most charming Brazilian 
scenery, with trees over one hundred feet high 
overgrown with tropical vines, and above all 
shone the deep blue of the tropical sky. 

“Well, little Yankee, how about Niagara 
now?” asked Martim teasingly. 

“ There’s only one Niagara,” said Maria 
sturdily, and her father added, 

“ Niagara and Iguazu’ cannot be compared. 
The one is surrounded by cultivated parks and 
thriving modern cities, the other with the aban- 
don of nature. Niagara makes a single leap 
over a precipice one hundred and eighty feet 
high, while Iguazu is broken in fall but far 
wider. Either one is a possession for any coun- 
try to be proud of and neither one is worth a 
single quarrel. 

“ We are to camp here for some days. I hope 
you little folk will have a nice time and I am 
not going to issue a lot of commands to spoil 
your pleasure. Only one thing is forbidden ; you 


The Falls of Iguazu 115 

must never go away from camp without one of 
the servants unless you are with one of us grown 
people. Do you understand?” 

“ Yes, sir,” they all said, and he added, 

“lam sure I can trust you. The forest is full 
of all manner of animals and creeping things, 
and it would be very easy to lose your way, so 
that we could never find you again. Now, have 
all the fun you can for our week here will soon be 
over.” 

What orgies of delight followed ! The girls 
bathed in the stream and ran wild in the sun- 
shine, happy and tanned, going into the forest 
with the boys, except when they were going hunt- 
ing. 

Several days before their return home, the 
whole party went up to San Ignacio to see the 
ruins of the old mission in the heart of the 
woods. Huge trees mark the site of the flourish- 
ing town, where once were cheerful homes which 
only eighty years ago were burned. So well 


1 1 6 Our Little Brazilian Cousin 


were these dwellings built that the ruins are in 
excellent preservation, and the children played 
hide-and-seek in and out of the deserted walls, 
their merry laughter waking the echoes of the 
past. Maria had taught them the game she 
called ‘ High Spy,’ and they enjoyed it greatly, 
she most of all. 

“ Now then, Martim, it’s your turn to be it,” 
she said. “ And you can’t find me ! ” as she sped 
away to hide in some new and strange place. 
Before she knew it she had gone farther into the 
forest than she meant, and she did not know 
how to return. She turned this way and that, but 
there seemed no path. All about her the woods 
hemmed her in everywhere like a great green 
curtain. Then catching her foot in a swinging 
vine she fell and hurt her ankle. Frightened, 
she stood under a great magnolia to think. 

“ I must not be silly and cry,” she said to her- 
self. “ I can’t have gone very far, and if I sit 
still they’ll be sure to come and find me. If I 



“* I MUST NOT BE SILLY AND CRY,’ SHE SAID TO HERSELF.” 







































■ 























































































The Falls of Iguazu 117 


go on I may just get farther and farther away. 
I am going to stay right here anyway, until my 
ankle is better,” as she seated herself quietly. 

Maria was a brave child and old for her age, 
and she sat quite still, though the tears came into 
her eyes. 

Soon she grew very drowsy and could hardly 
keep awake, for the woods were full of soft, 
cooing sounds and at last she dropped asleep. 

It was almost twilight when she awoke, and 
the rays of the setting sun gleamed between the 
leaves. Drowsily stirring, she heard the sound 
of voices, and sitting up suddenly she saw a little 
Indian girl talking to a splendid cockatoo which 
perched upon her hand. The parrot was chatter- 
ing in Portuguese, and his little mistress was 
talking to him lovingly, but she sprang away in 
fright as Maria got up from the ground. 

“ Can you show me the way to the camp? ” 
she asked. “ I am lost.” 

“ What camp? Where did you come from? ” 


n8 Our Little Brazilian Cousin 


asked the Indian. She was a little younger than 
Maria, and dressed in a quaint little peasant’s 
costume of blue skirt and red blouse with a huge 
straw hat upon her black hair. 

Quickly Maria told her story and the little 
girl said, 

“ I can take you back. You must have run 
very quickly to have come so far. We must 
start at once to reach the Mission before 
dark.” 

“ Oh, thank you ever so much,” said Maria. 
“ I am so anxious to get back, for my father will 
be hunting for me.” 

“ He might hunt all night and not find you, 
for the forest has many paths,” said the little 
girl. She had a sad little face but it was very 
sweet when she smiled. 

“ What is your name?” asked Maria as the 
two girls trudged along through the forest, her 
companion still carrying the cockatoo. 


The Falls of Iguazu 119 

“ Guacha / because I have no mother,” she 
answered. “ That is my Indian name, but I am 
also called Teresa.” 

“ My mother is dead, too,” said Maria, and 
the two little girls looked into one another’s eyes 
with sympathy. 

“ My father is dead, also,” said Guacha. 
“ We were of the Mission Indians, but all my 
own people died of the fever two years ago.” 

“ But who do you live with? ” asked Maria. 
“ Have you no friends at all? ” 

“ Oh, I live with some of the Indians who 
were my father’s friends ! ” said Guacha, “ and 
Chiquita here is my good friend,” and she 
smiled at the bird, who chattered to her gaily 
and pecked gently at her cheek. “ I wish you 
could go home with me ! ” cried Maria im- 
pulsively, and just then she heard a shout re- 
sounding through the forest, 

“ Maria ! Maria ! ” sounded her father’s voice, 

1 A lamb without a mother. 


120 Our Little Brazilian Cousin 

and the two little girls hurried along faster, 
Maria answering the call as loudly as she 
could. 

In a few moments they came in sight of the 
camp, and Maria was caught to her father’s 
breast and kissed and scolded all in the same 
breath, while the rest of the children gathered 
around, eager with questions, all but Guacha, 
who stood apart, wistful and silent. Maria did 
not forget her, however, for escaping from her 
father’s arms, she took the little Indian girl by 
the hand and said, 

“ Scold me all you want to, Daddy, though 
I did not mean to run away, but be kind to 
Guacha, who brought me back and who has no 
father.” 

Then the little Indian was made welcome, 
thanked and made much of, and the Senhora 
said, 

“ You must stay all night with us, dear child, 


The Falls of Iguazu 


I 2 I 


for it is too late for you to return home through 
the forest. Will they be worried about you? ” 
“ Thank you, Senhora, I will stay,” she said 
simply. “ There is no one at all to worry about 


CHAPTER XII 

GUACHA 

Chiquita and Guacha proved a pleasant addi- 
tion to the happy circle of little folk, for, though 
shy at first, the little Indian soon thawed out in 
the genial atmosphere about her. Many quaint 
little stories she told of Indian ways and 
customs, legends of the times of the Inca con- 
quests, and stories of the days when her fore- 
fathers had been Caciques of the tribe. She was 
a sweet-natured little soul, and the Senhora kept 
her with them until the last day of their stay. 

The evening before they were to return to 
Sao Paulo, all sat around the camp-fire, laugh- 
ing, talking, and telling stories, Guacha beside 
Maria, for the two little girls had grown nearly 
inseparable. The green and red cockatoo was 


122 


Guacha 


123 


perched upon Guacha’s shoulder, half asleep, 
but when his little mistress laughed, he chuckled 
sleepily, that half amused, half contemptuous 
laugh which makes a parrot seem so human. 

“ To-morrow we start toward home,” said 
Lola dreamily, as she sat resting her head 
against her mother’s knee. 

“ Saudade,' little daughter?” asked her 
father. 

“ Oh, no, papa, how could I be really home- 
sick when I am having such a delightful time 
with my cousins,” said Lola sweetly. 44 But I 
should like to see grandmamma in Para and my 
dear old nurse at the fazenda” 

44 I want to see Joachim and Vicente,” said 
Affonzo. 

44 I want to see mamma,” said Martim. Big 
boy that he was, he was not ashamed of being 
devoted to his mother. 

Maria’s eyes filled with tears, and she slipped 
1 Homesickness. 


124 Our Little Brazilian Cousin 


one hand into her father’s and he held it 
tight. 

The Senhora hummed lightly under her breath 
the sweet Brazilian “ Home Sweet Home,” 1 
then the young folk took up the strain and sang 
together : 

“Mine is the country where the palm-trees rear 
Their stately heads toward the azure sky, 

And where, in accents ever soft and clear, 

The sabia sings her hymn of melody; 

Here, in my exile, say what warblers rare 

Can with the sabia’s notes their own compare ? 

" Friendless, alone, at night, I dream of thee; 

My slumbering senses wrapped in peace and bliss. 

I see the palms; the sabia’s melody 

Falls on my ears; once more I feel the kiss 

Of lips I love; I wake, the vision’s gone, 

The sabia to his native woods has flown. 

“ Spare me, O God, until in peace I lie 
Asleep for ever in the land I love, 

* Written by Goncalves Dias, who perished by ship- 
wreck in sight of his native shores. 


Guacha 


!25 


Then may the sabia carol joyfully, 

Perched in the palms, my resting-place above. 

So gathering in the first-fruits of my love, 

No longer homesick, every heart-ache past, 

Bearing the sheaves for which in grief I strove, 

A plenteous harvest may I reap at last.” 

As they finished, Maria heard from the slight 
figure beside her a sigh that was almost a sob 
and she turned quickly to find Guacha’s eyes 
filled with tears, fixed upon her. 

“What is it?” she whispered. “Are you 
ill?” 

“ Oh no,” said Guacha. “ But you all love 
each other so dearly and I have no one to love 
only Chiquita,” as the cockatoo rubbed his 
fluffy head against her cheek. 

“ You have me,” said Maria. 

“ But you are going away from me,” she an- 
swered mournfully. 

“ No, my child.” Maria’s father laid his 
hand kindly upon the little Indian’s dark head. 
“ You may come with us if you will.” 


126 Our Little Brazilian Cousin 

“ Oh, papa ! ” cried Maria, her face alight 
with eager delight. “ Will you really take 
Guacha back with us? ” 

“ I thought that you might like to have her 
go back with us and play that she was your 
sister,” he said pleasantly. “ Your aunt says she 
will take care of you both during the rest of the 
year, and the old people who have cared for 
your little friend are ready to give her to us if 
she wants to come. How about it, Guacha? 
Will you go far off to Para and be Guacha’s 
sister? ” 

She looked from him to Maria, from Maria 
to the Senhora, who smiled at her kindly. 

“May I take Chiquita?” she asked. “He 
hasn’t a friend in all the world but me.” 

“ Of course you may take your birdie, you 
dear little girl,” said the Senhora, “ and we shall 
all hope to have you very happy with us.” 

Guacha gave a contented little sigh, and 
slipped her hand into Maria’s. 


Guacha 


127 

“ You are all so good,” she said. “ I could 
never be anything but happy with you.” 

“ It will be ever so jolly,” broke out Affonzo, 
the irrepressible. 

“ Yes,” said Martim. “ I’ll have another 
girl cousin to tease, but she won’t treat me as 
unkindly as you treat your Brazilian cousins, 
Maria.” 

“ Well, maybe not,” laughed Maria, “ but 
you know Guacha is the only one of you all who 
is really and truly my Little Brazilian Cousin.” 


THE END. 


THE LITTLE COUSIN SERIES 


The most delightful and interesting accounts possible 
of child life in other lands, filled with quaint sayings, 
doings, and adventures. 

Each one vol., 1 2mo, decorative cover, cloth, with six or more 
full-page illustrations in color. 

Price per volume $0.60 

By MARY HAZELTON WADE ( unless otherwise 
indicated ) 


Our Little African Cousin 

Our Little Alaskan Cousin 

By Mary F. Nixon - Roulet 

Our Little Arabian Cousin 

By Blanche McManus 

Our Little Armenian Cousin 
Our Little Brown Cousin 

Our Little Canadian Cousin 

By Elizabeth R. Macdonald 

Our Little Chinese Cousin 

By Isaac Taylor Headland 

Our Little Cuban Cousin 

Our Little Dutch Cousin 

By Blanche McManus 

Our Little English Cousin 

By Blanche McManus 

Our Little Eskimo Cousin 

Our Little French Cousin 

By Blanche McManus 

Our Little German Cousin 
Our Little Hawaiian Cousin 

Our Little Hindu Cousin 

By Blanche McManus 

Our Little Indian Cousin 
A — 1 


Our Little Irish Cousin 
Our Little Italian Cousin 
Our Little Japanese Cousin 
Our Little Jewish Cousin 

Our Little Korean Cousin 

By H. Lee M. Pike 

Our Little Mexican Cousin 

By Edward C. Butler 

Our Little Norwegian Cousin 

Our Little Panama Cousin 

By H. Lee M. Pike 

Our Little Philippine Cousin 
Our Little Porto Rican Cousin 
Our Little Russian Cousin 

Our Little Scotch Cousin 

By Blanche McManus 

Our Little Siamese Cousin 

Our Little Spanish Cousin 

By Mary F. Nixon -Roulet 

Our Little Swedish Cousin 

By Claire M. Coburn 

Our Little Swiss Cousin 
Our Little Turkish Cousin 


THE GOLDENROD LIBRARY 


The Goldenrod Library contains stories which appeal 
alike both to children and to their parents and guardians. 

Each volume is well illustrated from drawings by 
competent artists, which, together with their handsomely 
decorated uniform binding, showing the goldenrod, 
usually considered the emblem of America, is a feature 
of their manufacture. 

Each one volume, small 1 2mo, illustrated * . $0.35 


LIST OF TITLES 

Aunt Nabby’s Children. By Frances Hodges White. 
Child’s Dream of a Star, The. By Charles Dickens. 
Flight of Rosy Dawn, The. By Pauline Bradford Mackie. 

Findelkind. By Ouida. 

Fairy of the Rhone, The. By A. Comyns Carr. 

Gatty and I. By Frances E. Crompton. 

Helena’s Wonderworld. By Frances Hodges White. 
Jerry’s Reward. By Evelyn Snead Barnett. 

La Belle Nivernaise. By Alphonse Daudet. 

Little King Davie. By Nellie Hellis. 

Little Peterkin Vandike. By Charles Stuart Pratt. 
Little Professor, The. By Ida Horton Cash. 

Peggy’s Trial. By Mary Knight Potter. 

Prince Yellowtop. By Kate Whiting Patch. 

Provence Rose, A. By Ouida. 

Seventh Daughter, A. By Grace Wickham Curran. 
Sleeping Beauty, The. By Martha Baker Dunn. 

Small, Small Child, A. By E. Livingston Prescott. 
Susanne. By Frances J. Delano. 

Water People, The. By Charles Lee Sleight. 

Young Archer, The. By Charles E. Brimblecom. 

A — 2 


COSY CORNER SERIES 

It is the intention of the publishers that this series shall 
contain only the very highest and purest literature, — 
stories that shall not only appeal to the children them- 
selves, but be appreciated by all those who feel with 
them in their joys and sorrows. 

The numerous illustrations in each book are by well-known 
artists, and each volume has a separate attractive cover 
design. 

Each i vol., i6mo, cloth $0.50 

By ANNIE FELLOWS JOHNSTON 

The Little Colonel. (Trade Mark.) 

The scene of this story is laid in Kentucky. Its heroine 
is a small girl, who is known as the Little Colonel, on 
account of her fancied resemblance to an old-school South- 
ern gentleman, whose fine estate and old family are famous, 
in the region. 

The Qiant Scissors. 

This is the story of Joyce and of her adventures in 
France. Joyce is a great friend of the Little Colonel, and 
in later volumes shares with her the delightful experiences 
of the “ House Party ” and the “ Holidays.” 

Two Little Knights of Kentucky. 

Who Were the Little Colonel’s Neighbors. 

In this volume the Little Colonel returns to us like an 
old friend, but with added grace and charm. She is not, 
however, the central figure of the story, that place being 
taken by the “ two little knights.” 

Mildred’s Inheritance. 

A delightful little story of a lonely English girl who 
comes to America and is befriended by a sympathetic 
American family who are attracted by her beautiful speak- 
ing voice. By means of this one gift she is enabled to 
help a school-girl who has temporarily lost the use of her 
eyes, and thus finally her life becomes a busy, happy one. 


1. C. PAGE AND COMPANY'S 


By ANNIE FELLOWS JOHNSTON ( Continued ) 

Cicely and Other Stories for Qirls. 

The readers of Mrs. Johnston’s charming juveniles will 
be glad to learn of the issue of this volume for young 
people. 

Aunt ’Liza’s Hero and Other Stories. 

A collection of six bright little stories, which will appeal 
to all boys and most girls. 

Big Brother. 

A story of two boys. The devotion and care of Steven, 
himself a small boy, for his baby brother, is the theme of 
the simple tale. 

Ole Mammy’s Torment. 

“ Ole Mammy’s Torment” has been fitly called “ a classic 
of Southern life.” It relates the haps and mishaps of a 
small negro lad, and tells how he was led by love and kind- 
ness to a knowledge of the right. 

The Story of Dago. 

In this story Mrs. Johnston relates the story of Dago, a 
pet monkey, owned jointly by two brothers. Dago tells 
his own story, and the account of his haps and mishaps is 
both interesting and amusing. 

The Quilt That Jack Built. 

A pleasant little story of a boy’s labor of love, and how 
Jt changed the course of his life many years after it was 
accomplished. 

Flip’s Islands of Providence. 

A story of a boy’s life battle, his early defeat, and his 
final triumph, well worth the reading. 

A- 4 


COSY CORNER SERIES 


By EDITH ROBINSON 

A Little Puritan’s First Christmas. 

A Story of Colonial times in Boston, telling how 
Christmas was invented by Betty Sewall, a typical child 
of the Puritans, aided by her brother Sam. 

A Little Daughter of Liberty. 

The author introduces this story as follows : 

“ One ride is memorable in the early history of the 
American Revolution, the well-known ride of Paul 
Revere. Equally deserving of commendation is another 
ride, — the ride of Anthony Severn, — which was no less 
historic in its action or memorable in its consequences.” 

A Loyal Little Maid. 

A delightful and interesting story of Revolutionary 
days, in which the child heroine, Betsey Schuyler, 
renders important services to George Washington. 

A Little Puritan Rebel. 

This is an historical tale of a real girl, during the 
time when the gallant Sir Harry Vane was governor of 
Massachusetts. 

A Little Puritan Pioneer. 

The scene of this story is laid in the Puritan settle- 
ment at Charlestown. 

A Little Puritan Bound Girl. 

A story of Boston in Puritan days, which is of great 
interest to youthful readers. 

A Little Puritan Cavalier. 

The story of a “ Little Puritan Cavalier ” who tried 
with all his boyish enthusiasm to emulate the spirit and 
ideals of the dead Crusaders. 

A Puritan Knight Errant. 

The story tells of a young lad in Colonial times who 
endeavored to carry out the high ideals of the knights 
of olden days. 

A— 5 


L. C. PAGE AND COMPANY'S 


By OUIDA ( Louise de la Ramie) 

A Dog of Flanders : A Christmas Story. 

Too well and favorably known to require description. 

The Nurnberg Stove. 

This beautiful story has never before been published at 
a popular price. 

By FRANCES MARGARET FOX 

The Little Giant’s Neighbours. 

A charming nature story of a “ little giant ” whose neigh* 
bours were the creatures of the field and garden. 

Farmer Brown and the Birds. 

A little story which teaches children that the birds are 
man’s best friends. 

Betty of Old Mackinaw. 

A charming story of child-life, appealing especially to 
the little readers who like stories of “ real people.” 

Brother Billy. 

The story of Betty’s brother, and some further adven- 
tures of Betty herself. 

Mother Nature’s Little Ones. 

Curious little sketches describing the early lifetime, or 
“ childhood,” of the little creatures out-of-doors. 

How Christmas Came to the Mul- 
vaneys. 

A bright, lifelike little story of a family of poor children, 
with an unlimited capacity for fun and mischief. The 
wonderful never-to-be forgotten Christmas that came to 
them is the climax of a series of exciting incidents. 

A-6 


























i 
































SEP 20 190/ 




• - 





- 













. 

































' 







































































■ 





















































* 




















































































































LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 


□□□ 2546137 ^ 




mmi 



